Eyes of Fire
by RememberFics
Summary: WDZ - Diego is abducted and taken all the way to Spain. He is imprisoned under the power of Monestario, who has regained his powerful position and wants nothing more than to take his revenge on Zorro. Subjected to his enemies malvolent punishments, Diego is scarred both in body and in heart. Can he remain true to himself or will the injustice turn Zorro to vengence?
1. Chapter One

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

 **This Story is a repost! For more information on this author and other stories by them check the profile page.**

 **Original Summary:**

 _On the road to Monterey, Diego is abducted and imprisoned aboard a ship sailing for Spain. He is delivered to Madrid where he is confronted by Capitán Monastario who has regained his power and position, and wants nothing more than to exact his revenge upon Zorro. Diego is subjected to Monastario's malevolent punishments, which leave him scarred not only in his body, but in his heart. He escapes, and with the help of his friend, Padre Ramon, determines to bring Monastario to justice. However, will Diego be true to himself, or will Zorro seek revenge for the injustice inflicted upon his other self?_

 **Original Authors Note by Karla Gregory:**

 _I have tried to be true to the characters as I have found them on the WD series. But I always suspected that there was a depth to Diego and Zorro that the series never quite got to show. I have tried with this story to peer under the surface just a little bit. What I found was just what I expected. Diego and Zorro are every bit the men we thought they were.  
January 14, 2000_

* * *

 **Chapter One**

Diego slipped into the sala from the secret passage and sat in the chair next to the fireplace. He lounged back and indolently hung his leg over the arm of the chair. He could see his father, Don Alejandro, seated at the desk making entries in the record books. Taking a good draw on his cigar, he blew a large cloud of smoke towards his father. Don Alejandro stiffened as the smoke reached him and he turned to see what was going on. Seeing his son there when he hadn't been there just moments before caused him to exclaim, "Diego, I wish you wouldn't sneak up on me like that!"

His voice sounded gruff, but Diego was not put off by it. "I'm sorry father," he said grinning and gesturing grandly with the cigar. "It seems that I have developed this . . . habit that I cannot seem to control." Smiling wickedly, he again puffed on the cigar.

"At least you could give your poor father a warning when you do that", said Don Alejandro turning back to his books.

"Well, it seems that the only amusement left to me these days is sneaking up on my poor father. There has been nothing much for Zorro to do since Capitán Esposito arrived. Why, even Tornado is getting restless!"

Don Alejandro turned back around and said with lighthearted sarcasm, "Oh? Don't tell me you want a commandante like Monastario to reappear, or a gang of bandidos to start raiding and pillaging again so you can be . . . amused?"

"No, no, father. But you must admit, things are a little dull around here." Diego blew some smoke towards the ceiling. "Sergeant Garcia won't even chase me anymore", he said wistfully.

Don Alejandro rolled his eyes and shook his head as he said, "Yes, my son, I see that these are truly trying times for you." Then his face brightened. "But I may have a way to help you out of your present difficulties."

Diego straightened up in the chair. "Ah, I see you are interested? I am preparing to go to Monterey the day after tomorrow to meet some cattle breeders there. I need to acquire at least two new bulls for our herds and I am told they have some fine ones for sale there. How would you like to go in my place and transact this business for me and arrange for the bulls to be delivered in the spring?

"An excellent idea, father!" Diego said leaning forward. "It will give me the chance to see some different scenery, meet some new people . . ."

"And re-acquaint yourself with a certain Señorita?" Don Alejandro interjected.

"That too!" exclaimed a happy Diego de la Vega.

"It is settled then. I am glad to see you taking an interest in the family business at last. You have been such a worthless son to me since your return from Spain. Staying out until all hours of the night! Sleeping half the day away! Poetry . . . music . . . ."

As Don Alejandro railed against Diego's shortcomings, Diego was laughing so hard he could barely see. Zorro's activities were at the root of all of these supposed shortcomings and Don Alejandro knew it even as he railed. Eventually he ran down and began laughing also.

"My son, it is good to see you laugh. It makes an old man feel young again!"

They discussed the details of the business to be conducted for some time after that. When Don Alejandro inquired if Diego needed anything for the trip, he replied that he and Bernardo would go to Los Angeles the next afternoon and pick up what he required.

At Los Angeles the next day, two men sat at one of the outdoor tables at the tavern drinking wine. They had come in from the south about three days ago, telling Sergeant Garcia that they were vaqueros for a large rancho in the south and that they were waiting to meet someone at the pueblo. Since they were not causing any trouble and always paid their tavern bill, he left them alone. One of the men was tall and thin and the other was slightly shorter, but more stoutly built. The tall one sported a sparse beard. He was speaking in a low voice.

"When will this de la Vega ever come into the pueblo? No one has seen him here for almost a week. We can't stay much longer or that fat Sergeant Garcia will be back asking questions."

"Patience, my friend Rodrigo," said the other man. "If you were not willing to take the risk for such a sum of money as we have been promised, then you should not have come with me. Marcos would gladly have come in your place."

"No, I can handle it. But we need to be on that ship when it sails for Spain in two days. And still no sign of de la Vega."

Just then, two horsemen rode into the plaza. One was obviously the son of aristocracy and the other was as obviously a servant. The young aristo was tall, with dark wavy hair and a thin mustache. The servant was shorter, thicker, and balding. As they dismounted, the two men at the tavern saw the servant getting hand signal instructions from his master. He replied in kind, then went off to the market place apparently to buy some things. The young aristo, dressed in the finest clothing with lots of ornamentation strode over to the cuartel where Sergeant Garcia was standing. They spoke for a few minutes during which time the young man pointed to the tavern and the sergeant's smile grew larger.

Rodrigo leaned over and said, "That must be him, Joaquin! He had a deaf and dumb servant just like we were told he would."

"Si," said Joaquin. "Let us wait just a moment and then we will go into the tavern and sit close to them to see what we may learn."

By the time they got in the tavern and in their seats, the barmaid was already pouring wine for the young man and his guest.

"Thank you, Don Diego," said Sergeant Garcia saluting him and then drinking it down. At the mention of the young man's name, the two vaqueros exchanged knowing glances.

"You are welcome," Diego replied. "You had better drink up, Sergeant. I am afraid we won't be able to have these pleasant little visits for some time to come." He signaled for the barmaid to refill Sergeant Garcia's glass and to leave the bottle.

"Why will you not be here to buy me . . . I mean . . . why will you not be here, Don Diego?" Sergeant Garcia asked, trying not to look too disappointed (and failing).

Diego gave him an amused smile. "Well believe it or not, I am going to Monterey on business for my father." Diego looked innocent as Sergeant Garcia stared at him in unbelief. "What? Do you not think I am capable of such a thing?" he asked in mock indignation.

"Oh no, Don Diego, it is not that. It is just . . . that . . ."

"What, sergeant?"

Now Sergeant Garcia knew that Diego's pride was very sensitive and so he tried to let him down gently. "It is just that you know so much about music and wine and so little about ranching, Don Diego." But then a thought came to him that set him to grinning. "Oh, I can guess why you are really so anxious to go to Monterey. It is where Señorita Verdugo lives is it not?"

Diego contrived to look guilty. "Sergeant Garcia, you have found me out!" He beckoned the Sergeant closer. "But do not tell anyone. It may not work out any better than before. She was so smitten with Zorro, that she barely noticed me. I think I merely amused her. But some time has gone by and perhaps she has forgotten Zorro."

Sergeant Garcia did not think so, but he wouldn't say that to Don Diego. Let him have his dreams. "When will you leave?" he asked, to change the subject. "Bernardo and I will leave tomorrow. We are to meet the cattle breeders in five days and I want to have plenty of time to get there."

"When will you be returning?" asked the sergeant with great interest.

"If all goes well, I should be back in about three weeks. If it does not, I may be back sooner."

"You mean if it goes well with Señorita Verdugo do you not, Don Diego?" The sergeant winked conspiratorially while grinning hugely.

Diego looked smug and leaned back in his chair pulling out a cigar. He motioned for the barmaid to bring another bottle.

"Oh, gracias, Don Diego! I believe I will," Sergeant Garcia said to the implied question as he filled his glass again.

After this exchange, Joaquin motioned to Rodrigo with his head that they should leave. When they got outside, they walked across to their horses. Leaning on one, Joaquin looked back at the tavern. "So that is Diego de la Vega. Did you hear? He is going to Monterey tomorrow. We can catch him on the road and no one will even know he is gone for several days. By that time we will be on the ship headed for Spain and our money!"

"Si," said Rodrigo smiling greedily.

"Now you ride to San Pedro and tell the ship's captain that he is to be just off the east coast of Santa Cruz tomorrow night. We will meet him there in a small boat bringing de la Vega with us."

"But what if he does not want to go so far out of his way?" Rodrigo asked.

"Then you will remind him of who has sent us on this mission. And that he will answer to him when he reaches Spain. That should make him more agreeable. While you are doing that, I will ride to our camp and tell the others what we are going to do. When we have de la Vega, I will pay them off and get rid of them. Then you and I will take him to Spain."

"But how will you pay them?" asked Rodrigo. "We don't have any money yet."

"No, my slow witted friend, but Diego de la Vega does," Joaquin said laughingly, slapping Rodrigo on the shoulder. "Now, go! Meet us at the camp as soon as you can."

Each man mounted his horse and rode away in opposite directions.


	2. Chapter Two

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **Chapter Two**

After a good breakfast, Diego said goodbye to his father, and he and Bernardo started out on the road to Monterey. At noon, they stopped by a lake and had a light lunch. Feeling that they would make Santa Barbara easily by nightfall, they were in no hurry. The afternoon found them moving along at a steady pace. Diego had swung his leg over his horse's neck and was playing his guitar. Bernardo was beside him, smiling and enjoying the music. They looked like they didn't have a care in the world. Up ahead the road cut through a pile of large rocks before it headed down towards Santa Barbara. The mountains were on their right. To their left, the land had dropped away abruptly. From this height, they could see the ocean.

Diego was just about to make a comment about how beautiful it was, when he found himself dumped unceremoniously on the ground. Someone from up in the rocks had lassoed and pulled him off of his horse.

Before he could get loose and get up, six or seven bandidos had come boiling out of the rocks. The man he took for their leader had a pistol drawn and ready for use. The others had guns or knives at the ready. At a signal, two of the bandidos hauled him to his feet. Immediately, he looked around for Bernardo. He was being held between two bandidos near his horse. Another man held Diego's horse. He was angry that he had let his guard down and had let them be caught in this situation, but he could see that it was useless to put up any sort of a fight at the moment. He would play his usual role of the helpless Diego and hope these bandidos would only rob them of their valuables and then leave them alone. Zorro would deal with them later on better terms.

The leader of the bandidos came up to Deigo and said, "Señor de la Vega, it will go easier with you if you do not fight us. We have a schedule to keep and I do not wish to be delayed."

Diego searched the man's face wondering how the bandido knew his name. But before he could say anything, one of the men who was holding Bernardo said as he was reaching for the saddle bag on Bernardo's horse, "Hey, Joaquin. They are very rich. Let us see what they are carrying, no?"

"Not now, Rodrigo," ordered Joaquin. But Rodrigo did not stop.

Diego could see Bernardo's eyes getting wide with fear. No, not for his safety, but for what was in his saddlebag. He knew Bernardo would not be this frightened if only money or jewelry was being taken. Then with dismay, he realized that Bernardo must have brought one of Zorro's costumes along with him! As the bandido reached into the bag, Bernardo went berserk. Wresting away from the other bandido who held him, he snatched the saddlebag and started to run toward the steep side of the road where it fell away into a deep ravine. With all of his strength, he flung the bag over the side. While he was still staggering from the effort, Rodrigo came up and struck him on the side of the head with the butt of his pistol. Bernardo dropped like a stone.

Joaquin yelled, "Rodrigo, leave him! We have the one we came after."

All of this took place in the matter of seconds. Diego was maintaining control of himself, but just barely, when Rodrigo kicked Bernardo in the side and sent him tumbling down the slope of the ravine. Something snapped inside of Diego then, and whether he cried Bernardo's name or someone else did he could not tell, but he began to take apart all of the bandidos standing anywhere near him, trying to get to Bernardo.

Men were flying and dropping everywhere including the leader, Joaquin. But there were too many and Diego did not have any weapons. They ganged up on him and he found his arms and legs held tightly. With a supreme effort he began to shake some of them off until Joaquin brought his pistol down on the back of his head. Stunned, Diego continued to struggle until he was hit again and he knew no more.

Taking stock, Joaquin was amazed to see how badly beaten up he and his men were. One man by the side of the road wasn't moving and several were holding their heads and stomachs. All of them were a dusty, bleeding mess. It was discovered that the man lying so still was dead, his temple having struck a rock when Diego threw him about. Looking down at the unconscious young man at his feet, Joaquin lost his temper and kicked him in the side.

"Tie him up!" he cried pointing to Rodrigo. "Get the horses down here! You and you, ride back up the road a ways and see if anyone is coming. You two, do the same down the other way." The bandidos scattered. Kneeling down, Joaquin searched Diego's pockets and found his money pouch. He pulled the ring off of his finger. Going to Diego's horse he found another pouch down deep in the saddle bags. Yes, there was more than enough money to pay off the men and get rid of them now.

Calling them together, he received the report that the road was clear. He took all of the money from the first pouch and divided it among the four remaining bandidos equally. Then he told them to head north to anywhere they wished, but they were not to go to Los Angeles for any reason. Soon they were gone.

Over in the ravine, Bernardo regained consciousness. He began to crawl up the slope trying to reach the top. The effort caused him to almost black out several times. Just as he reached the top, he saw the two remaining bandidos standing over Diego who lay in the road tied up. He heard them talking.

Joaquin turned to Rodrigo and said, "You fool! Your greed almost cost us our prisoner. I had to hit him so hard I thought I had killed him. Lucky for you, he is not dead. We could not have delivered a dead man to Spain."

Rodrigo cringed, but said timidly, "We could just leave him here and take the money in that pouch and the ring, and go to Mexico. We could live a long time on that."

"I know," said Joaquin. "But we are going to deliver de la Vega to Monastario whether you want to or not, or I will kill you. (Bernardo's mouth fell open. Monastario!) Remember, Marcos is lying dead over there because of you." Rodrigo swallowed hard. "Now come on and help me get de la Vega on his horse. We have to get down to the boat without being seen, so we will have to cut across country. Tie him on well."

Bernardo tried to get up and go to Diego, but his vision swam and blacking out, he fell and slid back down the slope. The bandidos were too busy to notice and soon all that was left on the road was Diego's smashed guitar and the dead bandido. Bernardo's horse having been spooked, had run away.

Later that night, Don Alejandro was awakened by one of the vaqueros who breathlessly informed him, that Bernardo's horse had just appeared at the gate to the stables without his rider. Don Alejandro ran to see. The horse's mane and tail were full of briers and he was in rough shape. Don Alejandro's heart was in his throat as he ordered his horse saddled and a vaquero sent to the pueblo to inform the commandante. Then as quickly as he could, he and two vaqueros rode towards Monterey. His son was in trouble, he had no doubt. He hoped he was not too late to help. He did not really have a plan, but he intended to search all night along the road looking for Diego and Bernardo.

Dawn found them on exhausted horses about ten miles from Santa Barbara. As they rested the horses, they could see some soldiers back along the road a mile off. No mistaking Sergeant Garcia in the lead position, even from this distance. Don Alejandro waited anxiously for them to arrive. When they pulled up, Sergeant Garcia saluted Don Alejandro and said that the commandante had ordered them to search for Don Diego. Don Alejandro was welcome to come along if he wished.

"I do wish," growled Don Alejandro and he muttered under his breath, "As if you could stop me from looking for my son!" Then aloud, "Then let us go. We have seen nothing along the road yet. But this is the way they would have traveled to go to Monterey." He swung up on his horse and galloped off. Sergeant Garcia rolled his eyes and ordered his soldiers to follow. The vaqueros brought up the rear.

About four miles down the road, they came to the scene of the hijacking. Don Alejandro was the first to see the guitar lying in the road. He got off of his horse and picked it up. There was no mistaking it was Diego's. Then he saw the dead man and ran to turn him over. Sergeant Garcia had appeared by this time and was looking over Don Alejandro's shoulder.

At Don Alejandro's silent question he said, "No, I have never seen this man before." Looking around, he said, "Someone had a big fight here. There are a lot of tracks and there is blood on some of these rocks." At the mention of blood, Don Alejandro blanched as he looked at the sergeant.

Suddenly, one of the lancers cried, "Over here! Over here!" and pointed down the slope of the ravine. They ran over and to their dismay they could see Bernardo lying in the bushes, face down. They could see blood on his head.

Soon, the lancers and vaqueros had Bernardo up on the road where they discovered that he was not dead, just unconscious. They made him as comfortable as possible and tried to bring him around. Eventually, he came to and put his hand to his head wincing. Don Alejandro was in a quandary. In order to find out quickly what had happened to Diego, he needed to be able to speak to Bernardo, but he did not want to give away the secret that he was not deaf. So on the pretext of examining Bernardo's wound more closely, he leaned forward and whispered, "Pretend you are confused and agitated. That will give me an excuse to send them away so I can speak to you alone." Bernardo nodded.

Sergeant Garcia had just sent a lancer to the town to get a wagon for the "little one" and came over to where they were. Soon the vaqueros and lancers were crowded around too. They all wanted to know what happened. The sergeant began to question Bernardo, but all he got was a lot of gestures and facial expressions that he couldn't begin to make out. He appealed to Don Alejandro who was waiting for this chance.

"Sergeant, I have seen how my son Diego communicates with Bernardo and I can make him understand some things, but I can do nothing with this crowd of people about! All of you move off over there and let me calm him down. Even you, sergeant. Go on!" He waved them off. Then making sure he had his back to them, he faced Bernardo. He began making hand signals that were meaningless to Bernardo.

"No, no. Do not pay any attention to my hands," said Don Alejandro. "I am only doing it for show. Now tell me what happened! Wait, to save time, you were attacked by bandidos." Yes. "How many?" 7 or 8. "Where is Diego?"

Here began a series of signs that lead to: "You were hit on the head and pushed over the side. You came to and heard two bandidos talking. They put Diego on his horse upside down? No, they tied him on to keep him from falling off. Oh, he was unconscious. They needed a boat. They were sailing for Spain. They were taking Diego to Spain."

"But why?" asked Don Alejandro. The next sign made his blood run as cold as ice. It was the sign for Capitán Monastario.


	3. Chapter Three

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **Chapter Three**

The two bandidos, with Diego, had arrived at the outskirts of the town of Santa Barbara just a little before sunset. Joaquin left Rodrigo with the unconscious Diego and went down into the town to see about finding a fishing boat that could take them out to the ship which should be off the island of Santa Cruz by now. He found a fisherman mending his nets and hired him to do the job. He raced back to Rodrigo and they made their way to the dock taking precautions not to be seen. The fisherman wanted to know what was wrong with the young man and Joaquin told him that the father of the young man had wanted him to go to Spain for an education, but the young man did not want to go. So the father had hired them to make sure the young man got on the ship and that is what they were going to do. They had to knock him out and tie him up, but he was going, and that was that.

"But, no luggage?" the man asked.

Joaquin was growing tired of trying to explain. "Do you want to earn twenty pesos or not? I am sure there are other fishermen who can do the job?" he asked.

With that, the fisherman shut up and helped them put Diego in the bottom of the small sailboat. The horses were just left tied to the dock. The fisherman figured the two men would come back to get them after they got the young don on the ship.

And so they sailed into the night. It took almost an hour before they caught sight of the ship's lanterns and pulled up along side of it. Sailors with pistols challenged them until the captain could be summoned. He quickly gave orders that they were to help get the unconscious man aboard. Just as they were all standing on the deck, Diego started to come around. Joaquin hit him on the head again, sending him back to oblivion.

When the captain looked a question, he said, "Believe me, it is much better for all of us if he is unconscious until we have him locked away. We will put him in the in the small forward room below decks. Make sure anything loose in there is removed. The door does have a lock? Well, give me the key. You won't be needing it for this trip."

When Diego came to, he found himself on the floor of a small room - soaking wet. Someone had just thrown a bucket of seawater on him. He shook his head and a headache split his brain. He raised one hand to feel of it and found a manacle locked on his wrist.

Squinting in the dim candlelight he saw that his other hand sported a manacle too. Both had chains dangling from them that were attached to the wall behind him.

"So, my sleeping beauty, you are awake at last?" said Joaquin. "You must have a pretty tough skull to take so much punishment and still be alive. Not like my poor Marcos whom you killed." Diego looked surprised. "Oh yes, his head hit a rock when you threw him. He was like a son to me and only the thought of how much money I am going to get for you keeps me from killing you now. Look around you de la Vega, this will be your home until we reach Spain. Oh, I see you do not believe what you are hearing. Believe it. We are taking you to Spain to someone who is very anxious to be reunited with you. You will not be allowed out of this room before then. Behave yourself and we will treat you well. But do not give us any trouble or you will have cause to regret it. We were told to deliver you alive, but he did not say how alive."

Diego tried to speak, but Joaquin cut him off, "Here is some water and some rags that you can use on your head. We will bring you food later. Remember my warning!" And he left, clanking the lock as he turned it from the outside.

Diego sat in stunned silence. Only the creaking sounds of the ship could be heard. He was on a ship bound for Spain! Of all the things he had expected from the bandidos, this would never have occurred to him in a million years! He held his head and wished it would stop aching so that he could think. He took some of the rags and got them wet and began to minister to the lumps on his head. He drank most of the water left to him. The candle fluttered and he could see that it wasn't going to last much longer, so he began looking around the room to see if there was any way to escape. There wasn't. He must be in the room under the forecastle. A small room, there was no entrance or exit save the one door.

And these chains! Never had he been in chains before! He pulled experimentally on the chains to test how well they were attached to the wall. They didn't move. He examined the manacles in the dim light as best he could. If he had access to some piece of metal or a nail, he thought he could, given time, pick the lock and get them off. But as he looked around the small space nothing like that presented itself. In something like despair, Diego sat back and leaned his head against the wall. For now, there was nothing he could do.

The candle finally went out. Left with nothing to do but think, he tried to remember everything that happened. His first thought was of Bernardo. With fear in his heart, he wondered if his most trusted friend was dead. That man, Rodrigo, had certainly hit him hard enough. If so, Bernardo had died trying to preserve Diego's other identity, for Diego was sure that Zorro's costume had been in that bag. Bernardo believed in being prepared in case Diego should have need. He always seemed to know even before Diego did. Diego bowed his head and said a prayer for his friend.

He couldn't remember much about the fight itself. He knew his guise as a weak dandy was ruined with that group of bandidos for he was sure he had injured quite a number of them before they all jumped him at once and he was knocked out. He thought he might have seen the leader of the bandidos in town, but he wasn't sure. Finally, exhausted, he fell asleep.

The clanking of the lock and the banging of the door as it was opened awakened him. Through the dim morning light that came in through one little porthole, Diego could see that someone was bringing him a plate of food. As the man leaned to put the plate down, Diego could see that it was Rodrigo, the man who had hit Bernardo.

Surging upward, heedless of the pain and dizziness in his head, Diego grabbed Rodrigo by the lapels of his coat. "Where is Bernardo my servant?" he cried. "What has happened to him?"

Rodrigo tried to pull away saying, "He is not here. We left him back there in the ravine." He shrugged, "Maybe he is dead..."

Diego tried to throttle Rodrigo, but suddenly found a knife at his own throat. He froze, but did not let go of Rodrigo. Looking to his left, he saw that it was Joaquin who held the knife. "Let go de la Vega . . . let go," he said and nicked Diego's throat a little. They locked eyes for a moment, then Diego let go, pushing Rodrigo back.

Diego stood there breathing heavily, his arms held slightly in front of him dangling their lengths of chains.

Joaquin said, "Maybe your servant is dead and maybe he is not, but my Marcos was killed on that road by you. As I have said, he was like a son to me. Do not concern yourself about a mere servant. What is in the past you cannot change and I hold your future in my hands."

Looking to Rodrigo he said, "Get yourself out of here. You were stupid and careless today. Do not let it happen again. Give me the key and I will lock up." He turned and left.

Diego was alone again. He wasn't interested in food right now. What he wanted was a way out of here! If he stretched the chain on his right arm tightly, he could just see out of the porthole. There was not much to see but blue ocean as far as the horizon. The ship seemed to be making good speed judging by the spray from the bow. He stood there a long time just looking out. Then with a sigh he turned to his meal and began to eat it. It was hard biscuit and a piece of boiled beef with only water to wash it down.

The day passed drearily. The dimness of the room seemed to mirror Diego's mood. Late in the afternoon, he heard someone coming and he quickly positioned himself so as to have the best view through the door when it opened. He wanted to get an idea of what was out there. He saw that straight ahead of him was a stair that looked like it led up to the main hatchway. It was only twenty or thirty feet away.

Rodrigo held a pistol this time and told Diego to get back. He put the new plate of food down and picked up the old one with the cup. Stepping just outside, but never letting the pistol waiver from Diego's chest, he filled the cup from the cask located there. He brought the cup in and set it next to the plate. Then he fairly leaped back outside the room and locked the door fast.

Diego smiled grimly as he realized that at least he had been able to scare Rodrigo half out of his wits. If he could only finish the job!

Several days passed without any opportunity for escape presenting itself. He thought about the only two other ocean voyages he had ever made and tried to recall how the ships traveled. He knew that the ships hugged the coast as much as possible so that land might only be a mile or two away at any given time. He also remembered they put into several ports in South America along the way.

If he could only get out of this room and over the side of the ship, he felt that he had a reasonable chance to make it to land and once there, to get help. But, (as he looked around the room once more in disgust) first he had to get out of this room!

Finally, after about four days, he got his chance. Rodrigo came in as usual with drawn pistol and set about leaving Diego something to eat. As usual, he had left the door open. A fight broke out among some of the sailors who were down below and Rodrigo stopped to look, forgetting about Diego. He never knew what hit him.

Diego quickly pulled him out of the line of sight of the doorway and got the keys from him. He found the ones that unlocked his manacles and had them off in an instant. Grabbing the pistol, he ran out of the room and headed towards the stairs. Just as he reached the top, his feet were pulled out from under him and he tumbled back down.

He landed on his back with his breath almost knocked out of him. Rolling over, he had made it up to one knee when he saw that it had been Joaquin that had stopped him. Quickly he pointed the gun at Joaquin and said, "Throw down your weapon, Señor. I do not wish to shoot you."

"Go ahead," was Joaquin's reply as he advanced on Diego.

Aiming to wound and not to kill, Diego pulled the trigger and heard nothing but a click. Joaquin said, "I couldn't let Rodrigo near you with a loaded weapon. You are too clever and dangerous. I was afraid something like this might happen. Now give me the pistol." He was pointing his own pistol at Diego who threw his on the floor in resignation.

Feeling someone behind him, he had just started to turn when a cargo net that Rodrigo had thrown over him entangled him. After considerable effort, Diego soon found himself back in the little room, again shackled to the walls. He was much battered and bruised as the two bandidos had taken the liberty to take out their frustrations and anger on him. Rodrigo had taken particular delight in this.

Diego was stiff and sore, black and blue. It took several days before he could get around very well. Joaquin brought his meals now. But he had Diego toss his old plate and cup out of the door and then he put the new plate and cup just inside the door and pushed it towards Diego with a stick. There would be no further opportunities for him to catch either of them again.

Although Diego resolved to keep looking for a chance to escape, he had to admit to himself that he probably was not going to get off of this ship until it reached Spain two months from now. He spent a great deal of time trying to figure out who was behind his abduction.

Neither of the two bandidos had ever mentioned Zorro in his presence, so he felt that they did not know who they had beyond the fact that he was Diego de la Vega. Other than some fencing rivals, he did not know anyone in Spain from three years ago who would hold ill will towards him. He did not think those he had bested in fencing would go to such lengths to bring him to Spain. They would have much better things to do with their money.

All of his political enemies he had made as Zorro, and Zorro was only known in California. If any word of Zorro had reached Spain he was sure he would have been regarded as a legend; made up by backward Californios. No, he could not imagine who this mystery man was who was bringing him to Spain.

He decided he was going to be in bad shape physically if he didn't do something. The small room and the chain limited his options, but he began to exercise. He did hundreds of sit-ups, push-ups, and stretching exercises. He ran in place. There was even a bar that went across the space that he could do chin-ups on to strengthen his arms. Then he would discipline himself and perform fencing moves even without a sword.

Sometimes when he was sitting in the dark of the night he would find himself reviewing his fencing moves, his hands tracing patterns in the dark. At other times, he would imagine himself playing chess or drafts with his father or Bernardo in the sala. He could imagine each of the moves, and the caustic comments his father would make if he were losing, which he usually was. He recited poetry to himself and quoted great parts of the Bible.

He imagined himself riding Tornado faster than the wind for the sheer joy of it! And he remembered with great detail the escapades of Zorro, and the satisfaction he had gained from making a difference as the masked man. He spent many hours forgetting he was in a stifling little room on a ship bound for Spain. It was the only way to keep his sanity.


	4. Chapter Four

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **Chapter Four**

As time wore on, he almost began to think that this room he was in was the entire world and that nothing else existed. Then one day he could hear shouting from the decks above and he heard the word, Spain, shouted several times. Jumping to the porthole, he could just see land on the horizon. They would not make port today as it was getting dark, but they surely would tomorrow. Diego felt a thrill just to see land again.

When it was time for his morning meal, both Joaquin and Rodrigo came into the small room. Joaquin was carrying a bundle. As he pulled the pistol from his belt he cocked it and Rodrigo did the same.

Joaquin said, "De la Vega, you will stand up and not move a muscle." He did so. "We are going to free you so that you can clean up and change into these." He threw the bundle of clothes toward Diego. "We took them from your saddlebags back in California. All right, Rodrigo, I have him covered."

Diego stood stock still with his eyes locked on Joaquin while Rodrigo unshackled him. The manacles fell to the floor one by one and Diego rubbed his wrists enjoying the sensation. Rodrigo stepped back and covered Diego with his pistol also.

Slowly Diego changed into the fresh clothes. It was his deep burgundy colored suit with the gold trim. It felt so good to put on a clean white shirt again!

Joaquin said, "I'm sorry we cannot let you shave, but we cannot let you get hold of anything sharp, you understand." Diego ran his hand over his beard, but said nothing. He could well imagine why they felt that way.

When he was dressed, Rodrigo pulled out a set of handcuffs and told him to put them on. Diego looked at them with loathing. "Come on, de la Vega, make this easier on all of us and just put them on," said Joaquin. "You will, one way or another." So Diego's shoulders slumped a little and he put them on. Rodrigo locked them with a key. "Now hold your hands over your head."

He did so, and Rodrigo passed a chain around his waist and fastened it there. It had about a five foot length of chain attached. Rodrigo stepped back holding the end of the chain and Diego lowered his hands.

"This is the plan, de la Vega," said Joaquin. "When we reach the docks we are going to go straight to the nearest military station. You will be in front of me the whole time. I will have hold of this chain concealed by my cloak. In my hand, I will hold this knife. If you try to escape, I won't stab you in the back, but I will cut you here." He made a demonstration on his own leg showing the cutting of the hamstring in the back of the leg. Seeing Diego's flash of fear, he said, "Yes, sometimes a young man's greatest fear is to become a cripple. Something to think about, eh?" Gathering up the chain he said, "Rodrigo, throw that cloak over de la Vega's handcuffs. No point in attracting attention. Now we will go up on deck."

Diego felt the point of the blade in his back as they went out of the cell and up the stairs. Joaquin's hand was steady and never faltered. Diego squinted and blinked as they came up into the sunlight. He had not been in the sun for a long time. As he looked around he realized that he had forgotten how busy a place Cadiz was. There were more people here in this one city than probably in all of California. Diego noticed the captain of the ship was keeping his distance from the three of them, but Joaquin saluted him anyway. He watched as the gangway was run out to the ship and saw the custom's official walk up it to board the vessel.

After he had checked with the captain and performed his duties there, he came over and asked to see the papers of Joaquin. Diego felt the bite of the knife in his back warning him to keep silent. Joaquin gave the officer a packet of documents, who, when he had read through them, looked briefly at Diego and then signed the documents permitting them to pass. Diego pondered this and realized that whoever he was being taken to meet had considerable influence over the military. They left the ship immediately.

The three of them walked through the busy streets of Cadiz. Once, some people jostled Diego and he felt the bite of the blade on his leg. "Wait," he hissed. "I am not trying to escape! The crowd is too thick!" The blade's pressure eased off.

"All right, but watch it," said Joaquin in his ear.

Soon they reached the military post. Joaquin presented their papers to the officer in charge. The officer read them and said, "Yes, I have orders to send you in a carriage escorted by six soldiers straight to Madrid. You can be on your way within the hour."

Diego's heart sank even more. He had foreseen numerous opportunities to escape once he reached land if he only had these two to guard him, but six soldiers plus Joaquin and Rodrigo was too much. He resigned himself to the trip, but he would still be ready.

With a military escort and changing horses every twenty miles, they should reach Madrid by the evening of the second day explained the officer. He also said that the guards would be changed three times in order to keep them fresh. Diego again wondered who in the world knew him well enough to be so cautious around him. He tried to ask, but was rebuffed.

"You will know all you need to know when you reach Madrid," he was told.

An hour later found them well started on the road to Madrid. Diego's feeling of helplessness seemed to grow with each mile they traveled towards that great city. Some of the happiest times of his life had been spent in Madrid. But that seemed like a dream now. He almost could not imagine being happy again.

Sleeping in a carriage was never an easy thing and Diego did not have much success. Joaquin and Rodrigo took turns watching and sleeping. The changes of horses and men went smoothly. They only stopped three times for meals and to stretch. At five o'clock on the second day, they pulled into the military garrison at Madrid.

Diego was placed in a cell flanked by two guards while Joaquin and Rodrigo went to report to their employer. They did not remove his handcuffs. He never saw the two bandidos again. He supposed they got their money and vanished. He prayed fervently that someone would rob them.

After it was dark, the guards removed Diego from the cell and placed him back in the carriage. They would tell him nothing, but he felt like he was finally going to meet this mysterious being who had torn apart his whole life. He could tell nothing about the streets in the dark except that he knew he was west of the University by the chiming of the church bells as they struck seven o'clock.

They pulled into the drive of a large, ornate house and stopped at the front door. Diego's emotions were in turmoil. He was ready to flee at a moment's notice, but at the same time he wanted to storm into this house and demand to know why all of this had been done to him. He wanted to meet his captor face to face and make him rue the day he had ever been born. All these things were going through his mind as he was shepherded up the stairs and into the house.

The entry gave way to a large hall. At the end of the lengthy hall was a grand, formal living room. The signs of wealth were everywhere as furniture and artwork filled the various rooms and hallway. There were guards posted along the hall and just outside the living room. He could see two men standing in that room waiting for him to arrive. One was dressed in splendid military fashion, including sword, and the other man was a finely dressed civilian. Both had their backs to him.

Diego squared his shoulders as he walked down the hall flanked by two guards. He was going to meet these people with his dignity and honor intact. He strode into the room and there received the shock of his life. For before him stood, in his entire military splendor, Capitán Enrique Sanchez Monastario.


	5. Chapter Five

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **Chapter Five**

Monastario was elated. Everything had worked perfectly. He could see by the shocked look on Diego de la Vega's bearded face that he had not known until just this moment that it was he who had brought him here. De la Vega seemed speechless. It was a delicious moment and he savored it to the fullest. Turning to his companion he said, "I believe we have had the desired effect eh, Señor Escobar?" and he laughed maliciously.

Felipe Escobar, who had been an emissary of the king in California, was also smiling with pleasure. "Yes, my dear Capitán, you have pulled it off brilliantly. Look how he remains dumb like his mouse of a servant!"

Monastario walked up to Diego until they were face to face. "Diego de la Vega, in California I was denied the satisfaction of seeing you revealed as Zorro, the fox. But I have brought you here to me in Spain where I will be recompensed for my loss. I declare you to be Zorro, the outlaw and I am going to be your judge and executioner." He raised a clinched fist. "You humiliated me too many times, de la Vega and I intend to exact my vengeance upon you here in this place."

Diego knew it was useless to deny he was Zorro to these people. His charade was over with them. He almost decided it would be better to remain silent and let them believe what they would, but his pride and honor rose to the surface.

He looked levelly back at Monastario who had such a triumphant look on his face and said, "Zorro was only born out of the necessity to fight your tyranny in California. He brought your malevolent ambitions into the light and put a stop to them. Any humiliation you suffered was created by your own hand, by your own stupidity."

Diego found himself on the floor, having been struck hard by Monastario's fist. "Pick him up," he growled and the guards leaped to do so. They held Diego for a moment until he shrugged them off.

"I see you are as witty as ever, Señor Zorro. But you see, it will avail you nothing for I am in command here. Oh, you thought you had defeated me in California. But I knew many men who owed me political favors and they were able to return me to Spain, restored to my former position, with all of the power my office holds.

"Señor Escobar, here, has also made arrangements for his future. He thirsts for revenge for the loss of time and money, and the humiliation he also endured at your hands. You are far away from anyone who can help you this time; not your father, or that false servant of yours. Pretending he was deaf was a masterstroke of genius, I must admit. It took me a long time to discover that about him. But it made so many things clear.

"You are alone here, Diego de la Vega, with only your tormentors for company. Come," he gestured. "I have had some quarters prepared especially for you." He motioned for the guards to push Diego out into the hall where on the left there was an office with a large desk and an ornate fireplace and on the right, a little further down, was a iron bound wooden door in front of which they stopped. Escobar trailed along behind.

Unlocking the door, a guard preceded Monastario down the stairs with a lighted torch. Pushed, Diego followed. He was unconsciously twisting his hands in the handcuffs as though trying to wrest them off. He tried to resist going down the stairs, but the guards forced him on. At the bottom of the stairs was a landing just big enough for all of them to stand while another door was being opened. The guard who had led the way lighted the torches on either side. This door had a barred window in it and was locked from the outside.

Once inside, Monastario ordered the guard to light all four of the torches in the square room, which was about thirty feet on a side with the walls being made completely of stone. It had high ceilings and only one window to the outside, high above their heads. Next to a rickety table and a sad looking chair, some straw was piled on the floor beside the far wall. There was a blanket on the straw and on the blanket rested manacles and chains.

"Take a good look, de la Vega. This is where you will spend the rest of your life, however short that may be." He watched to see Diego's reaction.

Diego was aware that he was being watched, so he controlled the revulsion he was feeling just looking at the manacles. His helplessness in this situation had robbed him of any remarks he might have made. So he just stood there and looked at Monastario waiting for the next move.

Monastario laughed. "You will never know how long I have dreamed of having you here, de la Vega. That you are rendered speechless pleases me greatly. I endured enough of your sharp tongue in California. And now we will begin the night's entertainment. Guards! Take off those handcuffs and his jacket and give him his 'sword'."

Diego suffered to have this done and looked questioningly at the bamboo stick he had been given. "What am I supposed to do with this?" he asked.

"Why, defend yourself, Señor Zorro" said Monastario sarcastically. He had drawn his own sword and suddenly lunged at Diego who parried out of instinct and avoided being cut by the narrowest of margins. "Ah ha! You now see the game we play. You will defend yourself because you must, but your defence will not last and I will prevail!" Monastario crowed.

"Then I will not fight you," said Diego lowering the 'sword'.

"Oh yes you will!" and to prove it Monastario hit Diego with a flurry of moves. Diego hated to admit it, but Monastario was right, he would defend himself. With only a bamboo stick he held Monastario at bay, but he knew it would not last long. Monastario stepped back and waived his sword in front of him, toying with it, as he said with a knowing grin, "I see you no longer feel the need to hide your skill from me. Only a master swordsman could have lasted against me armed as you are. Am I right?"

Diego acknowledged Monastario's assessment by saluting with his 'sword'. Monastario executed a mock bow and began another round of attacks. Slowly Diego's 'sword' began to splinter and he could not defend himself adequately. He began taking cuts from Monastario's blade.

At each cut, Monastario cried "Ah ha!" in triumph. In time, Diego was cut in more than a dozen places and blood began to color his white shirt red as his wounds accumulated. Still he fought on. In desperation he could do nothing else. At last, the bamboo 'sword' gave way and splintered useless to the floor. Diego found himself backed up against the wall with Monastario's sword at his throat.

"Guards, hold him," he commanded and waited until the heavily breathing, bleeding Diego was held fast. Then with his eyes locked on Diego's and a sneering smile on his face he took his gloved left hand and ripped Diego's shirt open. He could see fear in Diego's eyes, but also defiance. "Good, it will make this all the much sweeter," he thought.

So swiftly that the blade in his hand became a blur, he slashed a large letter 'M' on Diego's chest. Escobar could be heard clapping with approval in the background. Monastario stepped back.

Diego thought he was on fire. The agony of pain from his chest threatened to make him black out and his legs gave way. Gasping, he hung there between the guards. He eventually pulled himself together enough to look up at Monastario who was watching him and swinging his sword absently.

"That is to pay you back for all those 'Z's' you cut into my uniforms, my walls, my doors, my cuartel. The humiliation of it! Well, Señor Zorro, you will go to your grave with MY initial cut into your body . . . and your soul!"

And with that, Diego in uncaring fury, lunged at Monastario who slammed him in the head with the hilt of his sword. Diego was knocked unconscious.

"Put him in irons," said Monastario. The guards pulled Diego onto the straw pallet, placing him face up, and the manacles were locked on each wrist. Monastario used the tip of his sword to push Diego's shirt aside so he could admire his handiwork. He was well satisfied with this first encounter. He turned to go.

"Señor Escobar, I have some excellent wine upstairs. Come and tell me what you think of our little fencing exhibition tonight," he said.

They exited the room and the guards extinguished the torches and locked the door on the way out. A small, weak beam of moonlight shone on the seemingly lifeless form lying on the straw.


	6. Chapter Six

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **Chapter** **Six**

When the guard came the next morning, he found Diego had not moved. His chest was a frightful sight and the guard did not let his gaze linger there very long. The young man's clothing was pierced full of holes and stained with dried blood. Not sure if Diego was dead or alive, the guard kicked his foot.

Diego roused up suddenly and wished he hadn't. His head was splitting and the room spun. The spinning gradually stopped, but the pain didn't and he couldn't think straight. Disoriented, he said in a rasping voice, "Where am I?"

The guard didn't answer him. He only said, "Get up! I have to know how badly you are hurt in order to report to Capitán Monastario."

Suddenly everything rushed back to his memory. Only Diego's pride made him stand up slowly, leaning against the wall for support. His slightest movement caused his wounds to scream their pain at him. The manacles and chains weighed down his hands.

He looked at them bitterly for a long minute and then back at the guard who gestured at the old table. "There is a jug of water and some rags. You are to use them to treat your wounds. There is also some food. I will wait until you are finished." So saying, he pulled the old chair over by the door and sat down with arms crossed.

Diego first drank about half the water in the jug to try and ease his thirst. He really did not want to have to clean his wounds in front of the soldier, but there was no help for it; they must be attended to. So he gingerly began to work on them. After a moment, he appealed to the guard, "Please, if you could remove these for a few moments so that I may take off my shirt?" He held out his hands.

The guard said, "No. The Capitán has said that under no circumstances were you to be freed or I would be shot. Do the best you can."

Diego was disappointed, but not surprised. He continued his ministrations. All of the cuts burned when the water reached them. Especially the deeper cuts on his chest. At first he was loath to touch them because of what they represented, but finally he gritted his teeth and got on with it.

He carefully re-buttoned his shirt to cover his wounds when he was through. He poured the rest of the water on his head to try and help clear it. When he looked at the bread roll and the piece of cheese that was to be his breakfast, he found he was too tired to eat it. He sat down wearily on the straw with his back against the wall.

The guard said, "You will eat nothing?" Diego waved a hand negatively. Shrugging, the guard picked up the food and water jug. He pushed the table out of Diego's reach and then left.

"They are still taking no chances with me," was Diego's grim thought. Now that he was awake, he could take stock of his surroundings a little better. Sunlight came through the small cell window. He could see quite well. There was nothing remarkable about the cell except for its size. He looked at the walls and floors noticing some regularly spaced markings. He thought about what could make such marks and decided that this room was probably a former wine cellar. That would explain its size. Most dungeons he had ever read about were small, cramped places. Monastario must have had this room emptied just to house him.

He next turned his attention to his manacles. He could see where the chains had been freshly mortared into the wall at about shoulder height. Running his hand along the stones of the wall beside him, he found one about the size of his fist that was loose. With a little effort he thought he could remove it. Looking at the manacles themselves, he saw that they were not dissimilar from the ones on the ship. Searching the cell for anything that would provide any piece of metal he could use, he looked closely at the table.

From his vantage point as he was seated on the floor, he could see that there were several nails sticking out at odd angles around one of the legs. Someone must have tried to nail the leg back on at some point and had done a bad job of it. If he could only get one or two of those nails, he could use the stone to pound them into a tool that he could use to unlock his manacles.

He thought about that a great while. Finally he decided that if Monastario came back for another fencing match, he would contrive to fall on the table smashing it. During the scramble to get up he would have to try and get one of the nails. If he succeeded, he would keep moving and toss the nail into the straw pallet where he doubted anyone would see it.

If, . . . if, he survived the next encounter with Monastario, he would then have a chance to get these manacles off! His very soul loathed these manacles. He had been in chains for months now. How he wanted to be rid of them! For a man who was used to freedom, chains were almost more unbearable than the wounds he had endured.

Finally, he turned his thoughts to Monastario himself. Revenge was his only goal with Diego now. No doubt he had other plots and plans going on, but his passion right now was in hurting and humiliating Diego. No, not so much Diego as Zorro. After all, it was Zorro who had publicly humiliated Monastario time after time. Not for the first time, Diego pondered what kind of man Monastario might have been if he hadn't succumbed to the ambitions for wealth and power.

With his intellect and charisma he could have made a great commandante in California or Spain. As it was, he had left himself with no redeeming qualities at all. Truth and honor meant nothing to him. They were impediments to his ambition. And Diego, as Zorro, was the embodiment of truth and honor to Monastario and, one more thing . . . justice. Monastario had escaped justice in California.

Diego felt that he was probably the only man in Spain besides Escobar, who knew of every crime committed by them against the people of California. It was those people: the peons and vaqueros, the Indians and dons alike who were denied justice. They had comforted themselves with the thought that Monastario was arrested and that the king's justice would be rendered. Well, they had been cheated!

Diego found he was grinding his teeth. If Monastario had gotten what he deserved, Diego would be back home in California, possibly married to Anna Maria and telling his father that he was soon to be a grandfather.

He shifted his position against the wall, which caused some of his wounds to protest, especially the one on his chest. That cut was an act of barbarism! Diego felt himself become angry and he didn't care. No matter how ruthless Monastario had been, he, as Zorro, had left Monastario alive when it would have been much simpler to have killed him. Zorro had not been that kind of man. But here in this cell, Diego could feel the stirrings of a different Zorro. He wasn't aware of it in a conscious sense; it was something forming down deep inside.

Finally, despite his pain, he slept the afternoon away.


	7. Chapter Seven

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **Chapter** **Seven**

In the late afternoon, the guard came back and brought the water jug and a plate of food. Diego awoke and realized he was very hungry. But more than that, he was thirsty. He tried to rise, but found that he was extremely stiff and sore. He could barely move. Stifling a groan, he staggered onto his feet. The guard had put the food on the table that he had pushed back over within Diego's reach. Diego drank gratefully. Then while he ate, he carefully felt around the table leg for the nails. If he had time, he might get one loose now. But it was not to be. The guard claimed he was tired of waiting and snatched the empty jug and plate, pushed the table back out of reach, and went out the door. There was nothing but silence after that.

The day drew to a close and Diego's cell grew dark. He grew tense with anticipation and dread. He did not want to go through another night like last night! He was dismayed that he had no choice in the matter and he was almost ready to jump out of his skin due to the emotional turmoil. He finally took strength in the knowledge that Zorro had always been able to beat the odds. Zorro had always been the victor in his encounters with Monastario, and Diego was Zorro was he not?

There was a sudden noise outside of his cell and he looked up. He could see the light from the torches as the guards came down. Soon the door to his cell was opened and they were lighting the torches in his cell. Diego, whose eyes were used to the darkness, was suddenly partially blinded. He threw an arm up to shield his eyes. The guards took up their positions. Diego forced himself to stand up. He raised his chin and squared his shoulders. He was afraid of the pain he must endure again tonight, but he would not let Monastario see that.

Monastario swept into the room pulling on his fencing gloves. He wore his usual ornate uniform. Escobar came in behind him and seeing the chair near the door, sat in it. He had a glass and a bottle of wine with him. Monastario stood, feet apart, hands on hips, looking Diego over from the floor up, taking in the blood stained trousers, the similarly stained shirt (that was carefully buttoned), and the unkempt beard.

He stopped when his eyes met Diego's. He saw defiance there. He smiled with wicked anticipation. He had not been disappointed. De la Vega would continue to fight tonight even though he already knew the outcome. It was this spirit that Monastario intended to dominate and break. But he did not wish it to happen too quickly. He had waited long for his vengeance and he did not want it to end prematurely.

"Come now, Señor Zorro. Let us have our evening's sport." He watched as the guards took off Diego's manacles and handed him the 'sword' of bamboo. "I see you are moving a little stiffly tonight. I hope that carrying my initial on your chest has not proved to be too heavy a burden?" He saw Diego's eyes flash. He had hit a nerve! "Maybe I should inspect my handiwork," he said as he took the tip of his sword and tried to push aside the fabric of Diego's shirt. His blade was met in a flash by the bamboo stick and was knocked away. "Ah, you want to fight do you?" Monastario exclaimed as he attacked.

Diego had been within a hairs-breadth of completely losing his temper. Then he remembered he had one goal above all others tonight, and that was getting the nails from the table. He had to accomplish that at least. So as Monastario attacked, he retreated until Monastario was directly in front of the table. During this time, he received several cuts by Monastario's sword because his reflexes were slowed by his previous injuries, but he kept on. Then in one great lunge he drove Monastario back and into the table bringing them down. The table broke up. Diego dove for the table leg just as the guards ran to help Monastario and while they were distracted, he found one nail loose on the floor and wrenched another free of the wood. Then the guards were on him, pushing him away. He managed to toss the nails into the straw of his bed unobserved.

Monastario was furious with Diego and the guards. Diego, for having maneuvered him into position and the guards for not having the foresight to remove the table. The malevolent look he gave Diego promised no quarter tonight. Monastario then proceeded to play Diego like an instrument. Eventually, Diego was cut up worse than he was the night before. Individually, none of the wounds were life threatening, but cumulatively they were taking a heavy toll. Soon Monastario had Diego beaten down to one knee. With a last blow he swept the remains of the bamboo out of Diego's hand. Escobar yelled, "Bravo," from the chair and raised his glass in a toast to Monastario who saluted Escobar with his sword. He turned back to Diego who, still on one knee, panted from the exertion and loss of blood. Using the tip of his sword, he placed it under Diego's chin and caused him to raise his head.

"Look at me de la Vega. Let me see if Zorro still lives in your eyes." Monastario peered closely. Although Diego was weak and withdrawn, there was still that extra something there. Monastario was pleased. Bit by bit he was eating away at the core of Zorro's being. De la Vega's spirit was dying a little each day. When it was dead, Zorro would be finished. If he wanted this delicious revenge to continue, he would have to be careful just how much he damaged de la Vega each night. Too much, and he might simply die from blood loss, never having been broken. That would never, never do.

He motioned the guards to drag Diego over to his bed and lock him in the manacles again. Monastario observed everything with a look of complete satisfaction on his face.

He leaned over Diego and said, "I own you, Zorro. Remember that. During your last days on this earth, I own you. No longer can you impose your will on me. I have escaped the justice of Zorro by my own cunning. The justice of Zorro is, like you, lying crushed at my feet."

Kicking straw in Diego's face, he left laughing heartily. The guards performed their usual duties and left Diego in the dark. He soon succumbed to his pain and exhaustion.

Sometime in the night, Diego awoke to the sound of someone moaning. He finally realized it was himself. He lay there in pain, unable to sleep. Monastario's last words kept ringing in his ears, until the only phrase he could focus on was "the justice of Zorro . . . the justice of Zorro . . .the justice of Zorro . . . ." The seeds of vengeance had been sown.


	8. Chapter Eight

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **Chapter** **Eight**

Diego was half dozing when the guard noisily opened the door the next morning. He chose not to move. The guard looked around for the table and then seemed to remember what had happened to it because he came and put the food down next to Diego on the floor. He also deposited the water jug and some fresh rags next to him. Jerking his thumb up, the guard indicated that Diego was expected to stand up for inspection.

Although he felt terrible, he had enough grit left that he wanted to see if he could get up for himself. With an involuntary groan, he stood up and almost fell except that the guard caught him. The pain from his wounds was a roaring ache, which he felt down to his bones. Each movement was an adventure in pain as each cut on his body vied for his attention.

The guard backed off leaving Diego upright but swaying. He didn't see it, but the guard's face softened as he looked at the young man. Then it hardened again as he remembered he was a soldier and he did not dare empathize with his charge. Especially not in this instance. So he growled at Diego to get on with his meal and to hurry up and clean himself up because he had other duties to perform.

Diego ate his food mechanically. He knew he needed the nourishment to help him to be able to think and he would need all of the strength he could get. He was desperate to drink all of the water, but held back enough to treat his wounds. He had to be very careful as he worked because the slightest pressure would cause many of them to bleed again. He did not allow himself to count them, he only cleaned himself up as best as he could. The less he thought about what had been done to him the better. He concentrated on the fact that he had the nails and he would soon be able to work with them.

As he finished, the guard picked up the plate and jug and turned to go. Diego asked in a soft, dignified voice, "Please Señor. If you could leave me some water?"

The guard looked at him for a moment and left. Diego sat down by the wall and leaned back discouraged. Apart from the actual pain of his wounds, he also felt generally unwell. He knew he would be very thirsty before the guard came back in the afternoon. To his surprise, the guard was back in just a few minutes. He came in and put the jug of water down beside Diego, who sat up, and left without a word, locking the door behind him. He could be heard going up the stairs. Diego looked at the door for a long time. This small act of kindness was the first he had experienced in months.

He finally picked up the jug and drank more than half of the water before putting it down. Then he leaned back against the wall. The coolness of the stones felt good on his back. Something made him look up at the door in time to see the guard's face disappear from the window. Apparently he had come back to check on the prisoner and had done it so quietly that Diego had not heard him. This meant he had to be doubly careful if he was going to create his lock pick from the nails he had. He didn't dare let the nails be confiscated.

Speaking of which, he pulled loose the stone from the wall and felt around in the straw for the nails. Working quickly, and ignoring the pain each movement caused, he soon had one nail shaped to try and pick the locks on his on his manacles. His youthful interest in magic tricks was of immense help as he worked on the locks. Soon both of his hands were free. A smile broke out on his bearded face as he rubbed his wrists and reveled in even this small amount of freedom.

He wanted to explore his prison, but first he needed a way to hear anyone who approached his cell. It would not do for anyone to discover he could free himself from the manacles. Looking about him all he could see was some sandy dirt that had collected in the corners over the years. Wounds protesting, he got up and gathered several handfuls which he carried in one of the rags the guard had left. Taking a handful, he stuck his arm through the door window as far as he could and pitched it on the stairs as high up as he could. Then he dropped some directly in front of the door. Whoever came down those stairs would make enough noise no matter how softly they walked that he should have some warning. Well . . . it was the best he could do.

Looking out the door window around each side as far as he could, and even above him, Diego took in the layout of the stairway. He noticed that the beams for the floor above were exposed. It looked like there would be room for someone to squeeze in up there by using the torch holder beside the cell door to gain access. He didn't think anyone would stop to look up if they thought he had escaped.

That done, he began a systematic exploration of his cell. The outside window was far too high for him to reach. As he had discovered when he found the rock to use as a hammer, that a lot of the mortar in this place was old and crumbly. Even, to his satisfaction, the mortar around the hinges of the door. If he had the time, he could probably use the nails he had to dig the mortar away and pull the door loose. But he would rather not have to do that.

He felt his best chance to escape would be in the morning when the guard brought his breakfast. It only remained to be seen whether Monastario would leave him strong enough to attempt it. Purposefully he walked around the cell and performed some stretching exercises trying to limber up his sore and painful body. His many wounds caused him to become very stiff. His whole body protested, and there were times when he became dizzy, but he could not tell if this was from the blow to his head or from loss of blood. He steeled himself against his weakness grimly determined to hang on.

In the early afternoon, Diego heard the guard coming down the stairs. He quickly sat down locking the manacles back on. His skin crawled as he did so, but he mastered himself and lapsed back into an indolent state as though he had been there all day. He heard with satisfaction the sound the guard's feet made as he walked over the sand outside the door. He would not be caught by surprise now. Setting the food down, the guard leaned up against the wall with arms folded waiting for Diego to eat. To his surprise, a cup he was given contained some passable wine. Raising the cup, he saluted the guard who acknowledged the gesture with a nod. While he was eating, the guard took the water jug out and filled it, leaving the cell door open as he did so.

"Ah," thought Diego. "He becomes sloppy now that he thinks I am unable to do anything. Perhaps I will not have to spend my time attacking the mortar around the door."

The guard brought the jug back in and took Diego's cup and plate away. Locking the door he went up the stairs. Diego started to unlock his manacles again, but stopped as he was reaching for the pick, for he heard soft scraping noises on the stair. Leaning back, he closed his eyes to a slit and saw the guard looking in the door again. The sand had worked well. The guard looked for several long minutes during which time Diego did not move, pretending to be asleep. Soon the guard could be heard going up the stairs.

Diego decided to release himself again. As he walked slowly around the cell, he began to review what he could remember about Monastario's house. His ability to recall the layout of the building would be critical to his escape. As the sun set, he sat down and put the manacles back on and waited for Monastario and Escobar.

When they came, Diego pretended to be as weak as he was expected to be (which was not far from the truth) because he could not let Monastario see hope in his captive's eyes. Or the fire that burned in his heart now that he was able to work on a means of escape.

Escobar had brought a bottle of wine with him and he looked like he had already consumed another. He had difficulty sitting in the chair without leaning to one side. Monastario stood with his hands on his hips looking at Escobar with disfavor. Shaking his head he turned to Diego. "Again it is time for our engagement, de la Vega. Surely you will do me the honor of standing in my presence?" He motioned for the guards who came and roughly picked up Diego and removed his manacles. Neither one was the guard who had been bringing him his food. One of them placed another bamboo 'sword' in his hand. Diego just looked at it, not wanting to meet Monastario's eyes.

Monastario took delight in seeing what he thought was defeat already taking hold of Diego. It was so delicious to have this man, this Zorro, in his control. Every day he could hardly wait to come down here and humiliate de la Vega. It was all he could do to come down only once a day. But he did not want to hurry de la Vega's demise. He enjoyed savoring the feeling of superiority and the intense anticipation of the evening almost as much as the 'duel' itself. Escobar began to complain of the delay as he drank from the bottle.

"Crude man," thought Monastario. "But he is right. Let us begin." Poking Diego in the chest with the point of his sword, he said, "On guard, Zorro!"

Diego almost lost control as the point of the sword pierced his skin, but he forced himself to fight like a man resigned to his fate. He fought with skill, but as before, a bamboo sword was inadequate and he was soon receiving new sword cuts on top of old ones.

On and on it went, Monastario harrying Diego until he finally put his sword through the flesh of Diego's left arm just above the elbow. As he leaned over gasping and clutching the wound, Monastario brought the hilt of his sword down on the back of Diego's head sending him down to the floor.

Escobar crowed his delight. "More! More!" he cried. "Don't stop yet!"

Monastario gestured to the guards who came and pulled Diego up to his knees. He could see that he was only semi-conscious. "Throw some water on him," he said.

This was done and slowly Diego came around. He could hardly focus on the man in front of him. Monastario knelt down and grabbed him by the hair, holding him so that they could look into each other's eyes. A brief hatred shown out of Diego's eyes before he dropped them and would not meet Monastario's again.

Monastario was satisfied. Again he had humiliated de la Vega, but there was still a fire there that would enable his enemy to continue to fight on. Once that fire was gone and he had destroyed the heart of Zorro, then it would be time to end this and bury de la Vega here in this room. He signaled for the guards to drag Diego over to the straw pallet and to put the manacles back on.

Seeing that Diego was only semi-conscious and that he was losing a great deal of blood from the wound in his left arm, he ordered water and cloth to be brought and bound the wound himself. He would let de la Vega care for his other wounds, but he wanted to make sure he would be alive to fight another day.

Diego was not aware of Monastario's closeness or he would not have let him touch him, no matter what.

By this time, Escobar was propped precariously in the chair, in danger of sliding off. Monastario looked at him in disgust. He growled, "If I did not need you, you little weasel, I would bury you here with de la Vega." Picking up the bottle, he told the guards to carry Escobar up the stairs after extinguishing the torches. He saw to the door being locked himself. As he looked into the cell again, he could barely make out the still form of Diego as he lay on the straw next to the wall. Smiling evilly to himself, he turned and went up the stairs.


	9. Chapter Nine

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **Chapter** **Nine**

Diego could do nothing to help himself. He slipped in and out of consciousness for hours. As the first light of dawn came, he was awake enough to realize that if he was to escape, he had to try today. Another night like the last one and he would be far too weak to attempt anything.

As he sat up, he had to put both his hands on the sides of his head to keep the pain from knocking him unconscious again. He knew that another blow to the head would leave him too dizzy to be able to function. Taking the water jug that had been left from the night before, he drank greedily, again just leaving enough water to tend to his wounds.

He felt so bad that he was tempted to skip it, but he knew that he would be the better for it, so he made himself go on and clean each wound. First, though, he took off the hated manacles. As he worked, he doubted there was much of his hide that had not been punctured. He worked around the bandage on his left arm not wanting to disturb it in case the deep puncture wound should start to bleed again. He didn't wonder that it was bandaged. He could imagine Monastario seeing that it was done. He would not want Diego to expire merely from loss of blood.

Finally done, he mustered all of his strength and stood up. He fell against the wall, hanging onto the chains of his manacles for support with his head resting on the cool stones of the wall. Slowly he took a few steps and then a few more, holding onto the wall. Then gradually as he regained his equilibrium, he moved across the cell to the door. Holding onto the bars of the window for support, once again he reviewed his options of a hiding place in the floor beams above the stairs.

As soon as he was satisfied, he decided to get moving. The bone deep aches and pains were such old friends now that he was able to force them into the recesses of his mind. He walked around the cell several times, flexing his arms and legs, ignoring the fresh blood that appeared as he reopened some of the cuts. He found he was still dizzy anytime he moved his head very fast, but if he shut his eyes it helped somewhat.

Eventually he gained some ground over his dizziness, but found a new worry. His left arm was very apt to give way with him since Monastario had pierced it last night. It was bound enough to have stopped the bleeding, but he felt that if the binding was tighter, it would give his arm more support. So he spent the next few minutes doing that. He looked back at the water jug wishing it held just another mouthful of water. He was still very warm and thirsty.

Putting the thought away, Diego began again to walk and move to gain more freedom of movement. He focused on one thing. He was going to escape or die trying. No longer would he submit to Monastario's sword or Escobar's taunts and jeers.

Shaking himself to awareness, he realized that he had heard the door at the top of the stairs open and that the guard would be coming down. Quickly, Diego sat down on his bed and put the manacles back on (for the last time!), but he did not lock them. He fell into a slump. The guard noisily opened the cell door and came in leaving it open. Seeing that Diego did not move, he kicked his foot. Slowly Diego opened his eyes and feigned being fuzzy-headed which did not require much acting.

The guard set the meal down along with a cup of water and at the same time picked up the water jug that Diego had emptied and proceeded to leave the cell to fill it. As the guard reached the door, Diego had already freed himself and had grabbed the rock he had used for a hammer. He hit the guard on the back of the head as hard as he could. Grunting, the guard fell down in the doorway sending the jug to smash against the stone floor. Diego froze, thinking that someone might have heard so loud a noise, but apparently not since no one came to investigate.

Quickly he searched the guard and found the keys to both of the doors. He also relieved the man of his knife, pistol and saber. Back in the cell, he hastily drank the cup of water and stuffed the food inside what was left of his shirt. Then going up the stairs, he made sure the door at the top was ajar to give the impression that he had fled. He went downstairs again and attempted to climb up into the floor beams using the torch holder beside the cell door.

His left arm was proving to be a significant problem. He struggled to pull himself up. Then with his feet on the holder and his hands on the beams, he was suddenly hit with such a wave of dizziness that he only remained upright through a miracle. Hearing voices in the hall above; however, lent him the impetus he needed to pull himself up and into the shadows where he tried to still his heavy breathing.

Monastario could be heard asking, "Who is the fool who left this door open?" as he angrily descended down the stairs. The sight that greeted him sent him into a panic. The guard was lying unconscious in the open doorway of the cell. Quickly, he peered in. Yes indeed, de la Vega was gone, but how? Where? Drawing his sword in fear, Monastario began backing up the stairs looking as if he feared imminent attack.

At this, Diego allowed himself a grim smile from his vantage point above. "Yes, Capitán Monastario," he thought "you do well to be afraid."

Monastario gained the top of the stairs and began to cry out for the guards to search the house for the prisoner. Diego decided to find a more comfortable place in the floor beams to pass the time. He would make his escape after dark and he had a long time to wait. He ate what had been brought to him for his breakfast slowly throughout the day, but what he wouldn't give for some water!

Eventually someone remembered the unconscious guard and came to remove him. Diego was glad to see that he was not hurt too badly. Even though Monastario had treated him horribly, the guard had done his job and no more.

The day gradually wore on and finally it got dark outside. Diego had alternately suffered by being very hot followed by having chills. He threw it off by force of will and got down from his perch. He was so stiff, he thought he wouldn't be able to stand up, but after he forced himself to climb the stairs he began to loosen up a little.

Slowly he turned the lock in the door, stopping at each little click the mechanism made. He opened the door a crack and peered out with one eye. All seemed to be in darkness. His years as Zorro had sharpened his night vision so he was able to see perfectly. Too perfectly. As he looked at the battered remains of his shirt he realized that even though it was dirty and covered with dried blood, it was still a white shirt.

Going down the stairs again, he took the shirt off and rubbed the ashes from the dead torch over it until it was black. He also rubbed the ashes and pitch on his face and hands. How much better it was back in California, when he had clean, black clothes to put on whenever he needed to be moving around in the dark, he thought. Bernardo's face flashed before his eyes, but he put it away under the necessity of the moment.

Back at the top of the stairs, Diego slipped out into the great hallway closing the door behind him. To his left down the hall he could see light spilling out of a doorway flanked by two guards. Fortunately the rest of the hallway was in darkness. He could clearly hear Escobar whining and worrying Monastario about what they were going to do now that Zorro had escaped. Monastario told him to be quiet.

For a full minute Diego paused and almost gave in to the urge to stride down the hall and have it out with Monastario now that he held a real sword in his hands. But logic gained the upper hand. He knew he was too weak and dizzy yet to have any hope of success. But later . . . . Diego's grim smile turned feral.

"Until later," he whispered. "We will meet again, Señor, and when we do, it will be the end for one of us."

Turning back to the right, he began tracing his way out of the house. He had to duck into corners or behind furniture several times before he reached the front of the house as guards or servants passed by. Seeing there was a guard posted at the front door, Diego turned into a side room which he took to be a salon. Here he found a window which he pried open. Unfortunately, there was a ten or twelve foot drop into some sort of stone courtyard. There would be very little cover for him.

With a little sigh of resignation, Diego slipped out the window and hung by his fingertips while trying to judge the drop. Just then, a light came into the room.

He could hear Monastario's voice say quite clearly, "What is that window doing open?" as he came over to it.

Diego had to let go no matter what might be below. As he landed the saber he was wearing rattled against the stone of the courtyard. Quickly he ducked back against the house and made himself as flat as he could.

Monastario's face appeared above him as he looked out trying to pierce the darkness. "What was the sound I heard? Guards! Someone is in the courtyard and I want him captured! Come with me at once!"

Diego laughed to himself, even as he was in great danger. This was just like old times! But then, these guards were not like the guards in California. They were harder and more disciplined. He had better get out of the courtyard fast. He could hear the running footsteps of the men coming out of the house.

Moving to the courtyard wall, he leaped up and grabbed the top expecting to pull himself up and over, but he had forgotten about his weakened left arm and fell back into the courtyard. Looking for a place to hide, he could see nothing except the shadows in one corner produced by a large tree just outside the wall.

Grabbing a patio chair of black wrought iron, he brought it with him into the corner and crouched down behind it. Some small pebbles rolled around under his feet. Picking them up, he waited to see what Monastario and his soldiers would do. Thankfully, none of them had had time to pick up a lantern.

Suddenly he had an inspiration. If he just had the strength to make an accurate throw . . .

Taking one of the pebbles he had picked up, he threw it with all of his strength at the window he had just come through. As he had hoped, the rock sailed into the open window and hit, who knew what, making a great deal of noise.

Immediately Monastario jumped to the conclusion Diego had hoped for. "Quickly, back into the house! He must still be in there!" Monastario cried. He motioned the guards to go ahead of him as they were closer to the courtyard entrance.

Diego, seeing their backs turned, chose that moment to climb on the chair and get up on the wall. Again the accursed sword gave him away with the softest of clangs as he gained the top of the wall. It was just enough to reach Monastario's ears. He turned and looked and saw a dark form there on top of the wall.

The Zorro in Diego could not resist. He saluted Monastario in the familiar way saying, "Adios, Monastario. I can no longer accept your hospitality. But let me warn you. When next we meet, only one of us will live to tell about it. Watch yourself always, for you will never know if I am going to be there in the shadows waiting for you." With that he dropped over the other side of the wall.

Monastario stood there stunned. His quarry had been in the house all along! Shouting for his guards, he ran to the chair and leaping up, hung his upper body on the wall so that he could see into the street. De la Vega was no where to be seen. There were enough street lamps to show the truth of it.

The guards clattered back into the courtyard to find their leader hanging on the wall. Monastario looked back over his shoulder and seeing them, dropped to the floor of the courtyard again. He saw some of the guards trying to smother smiles. If it were the last thing he ever did in this world, Diego de la Vega would die for once again humiliating him in front of his men!

"Lopez! Garza! Wipe those smiles off of your face. The rest of you come to attention! You will not rest this night until you have searched everywhere for the prisoner! Do you hear me? You will break up into two groups and search everywhere. Lopez, you take one and Garza the other. Do not come back to me without him," he paused, "Dead or alive. Now go!"

Seeing the murderous look in Monastario's eyes, they fled the courtyard.

When they had left, Monastario found Escobar standing there looking at him. He seemed to be stone, cold sober. "He will kill us, you know," he said. "In California, he opposed us because of what we did against his people and against the law. He would never have killed us in cold blood then. As evidence, we were left alive to return to Spain. As long as we left California alone, he would do nothing else against us. But now, having brought him here; wounding him physically, humiliating him, and making him desperate, he will not leave until we are both dead. For how could he trust we would not do the same or worse another time? Oh, we two have been too clever by far and have brought our own executioner to us."

Turning, Escobar walked into the house leaving Monastario with his mouth open to protest. But he realized Escobar was right. If he did not find de la Vega first… he would not complete the thought. He turned and ran out of the courtyard and into the street to begin his own earnest search.


	10. Chapter Ten

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **Chapter** **Ten**

Now, Diego for his part, as soon as he had dropped over the wall, ran as fast as he could to the other side of the street. Two houses up, he found a doorway that was recessed enough to provide a shadow to hide in.

Thus, he was already hidden when he saw Monastario's face appear above the wall. Holding perfectly still, he waited until he saw Monastario drop down and heard him begin shouting for his men. He took that moment to leave his hiding place and to move quickly up the street. He was not as familiar with this part of Madrid as he was the area around the university, but yes, if he took this turn… and then left here at this street… He would soon find the main road that lead to the heart of the city and there he could begin the most nebulous part of his escape plan. He could only hope Padre Ramon had not moved away during his absence, or he would find himself without anywhere to go.

Stopping to catch his breath, Diego saw a fountain nearby and he drank deeply. He started to splash some of the water on his head and neck when he remembered his sooty disguise. He would have to forgo the coolness of the water for now.

Moving on, he began to feel his weakness. His legs would tremble from fatigue whenever he stopped to look around for the pursuers he knew were trying to find him. Finally he came to the park that surrounded the west side of the university. He could go no further. It was still quite a distance to Padre Ramon's quarters. Looking about, he found an ancient oak he remembered had a substantial hollow on one side. He crept in and took refuge there. He had been there about ten minutes when he heard, (no it couldn't be!) Monastario's voice not more than twenty feet away.

"I know he will come here to the university! All of his friends and teachers were here. You, Lopez. Take your men around the south side. I will take the rest and go north and around. Look in every shadow just like this tree here. See this hollow? He could be hiding in such a place as this!" With that he took his sword and thrust it mightily into the tree's cavity. Diego just had time to duck down out of the way. Monastario tried to pull the sword loose, but found it was stuck in the wood of the tree when it pulled out of his hand, leaving him standing empty handed. Again several guards smiled and smirked behind their hands. Monastario was furious and grabbed his sword again and wrenched it out of the tree.

"Come on," he growled as he led his men off.

Diego could hear the other group move off also. Thankful, he offered up a prayer. Then remembering who it was he was trying to reach, he made his way out of the tree and on towards Padre Ramon's. The rest had helped him somewhat, but he was very, very tired. And so thirsty! He felt very hot, but he put it down to his exertions. He would just have to deal with it.

Moving from shadow to shadow was taking longer than he had hoped. He heard the church bells ring midnight. Now, the most dangerous part of the journey across the grounds of the university lay before him. A large expanse of open ground lay between him and the building he hoped (and prayed) Padre Ramon was in. The moon was a quarter full. There would be enough light for anyone who was looking to see him on such open ground. Diego had steeled himself for a mad dash when to his surprise, complete darkness fell. Looking up, he saw a single, large cloud covering the moon. Believing his patron saint was working overtime tonight, Diego ran as fast as he was able across to the trees on the other side. Hugging one, he did nothing but breath for a while.

When he was able, he began searching the face of the building for Padre Ramon's rooms. The dark was making it so difficult. Just then a little beam of moonlight illuminated the face of the building. Diego recognized the rooms he was searching for. They were off to his right about thirty yards away. In the distance, he could hear at least one group of guards coming his way. Then he could suddenly hear the other one. Looking back up, he could see that there were enough bushes and vines to get him to Padre Ramon's window. He covered the distance carefully. He couldn't chance being seen now; he would be shot immediately he was sure.

Looking up at the facade of the building bathed in moonlight, Diego said softly, "I don't suppose you would turn off the light once more, would you?" He was half in jest and half in earnest. As if on cue, the night grew black again. Once more the cloud had closed up around the moon. Diego smiled hugely and gave a salute to heaven. "Gracias, Señor," he said.

He then began to climb. Before he got very far, he got back down and took off the offending sword and said softly, "Not this time." He buried it in the leaves and mulch next to the building. Then he resumed his climb. His entire body ached. By the time he had reached the third story window that he sought, he was perspiring heavily and had reopened many of his wounds. He had also created a couple of new ones. His left hand got cut on a sharp stick he had not seen and a branch had scratched him just at the right temple and blood started running down. But still gritting his teeth, Diego managed to reach the casement window.

Just below, he heard Monastario interrogate his men to see what they had found. He did not like what he had heard. He sent them out again, leaving him standing alone with his hands on his hips. Had he bothered to look up, he might have seen the shadow clinging to the window. As it was, he soon stalked off to continue the search.

Diego breathed a sigh of relief. When he got home he would fill the church in Los Angeles with every candle that could be had. Gathering his last reserve, he fell as much as he climbed into the room. Sagging back against the wall, he could not move anymore.

Out of the darkness came that deep, sonorous voice that he loved so well. "If you came to rob me of my valuables, I'm afraid you are going to be disappointed. If you want something of value you will need to search elsewhere."

Diego replied, "The education you gave to me, Padre Ramon, is worth far more than gold to me."

Padre Ramon exclaimed, "Wait! I know that voice! Just a minute!"

Diego could hear the rather stout padre get up out of the bed and busy himself to light a candle. As he brought it around the bed, he cried, "By the Saints! You are badly hurt!" He brought the candle closer and peered into Diego's bearded, sooty face. "I know you!" he declared.

"You should," replied Diego. "I beat you often enough at chess." He smiled tiredly.

"Diego? Diego de la Vega, it is you? But . . . what? . . . how? . . ." he indicated Diego's condition.

"One moment, Padre. Please blow out the candle or close the window for there are those out there who seek me even now."

The padre looked at Diego a moment, then standing up and leaning over, reached out to pull the shutters closed. As he did so, he saw men moving about in the trees below. He shuttered the window just in time. One of the men had started to turn toward the building.

Down below, Monastario stared at the building. "What was that I saw?" he asked.

"I don't know, Capitán. I saw nothing," was the reply.

Frustrated, Monastario looked at the man and back at the building. Nothing could be seen there now. The moon had come back out and in the half-light nothing stirred. Where had that cloud come from anyway? There was not another one to be seen anywhere. Shrugging his shoulders, he moved off after his men.


	11. Chapter Eleven

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **Chapter** **Eleven**

Padre Ramon kneeled beside Diego and helped him to sit up further against the wall. "My son, what has happened to you? You are wounded from head to toe! We must see to your wounds and get you cleaned up immediately. Come, can you stand?" He bent over to help Diego get up.

Diego tried to help as much as he could, but he was sure that Padre Ramon was bearing most of his weight on his shoulders. Diego's legs were as useless as noodles as they crossed the room to a large, padded chair. Diego remembered it. He had sat in it many times while playing chess with the padre. It was the padre's favorite.

"Oh, please no, Padre," Diego said. "I am so dirty I will ruin your chair."

"Well, Diego, you were my favorite student and that counts for more than a chair," said the padre as he gently settled Diego. "If you can manage to take off that rag of a shirt, I will see what I can do towards cleaning you up."

He turned away as he poured a basin of water and got some towels. When he turned back he was speechless. He could clearly see Diego's arms and torso, which were covered in sword cuts and punctures. Hardly any part of him did not own its own cut or bruise. But what struck the padre the most was the deeply cut "M" on Diego's chest.

Seeing where the padre's gaze was going, Diego looked down. "I don't suppose there is any reason to hope that it won't leave a scar is there?" he said with a solemn little smile.

The padre swallowed and said, "I am afraid not. But come, let us clean you up as best we may this time of night."

"Yes, but first may I have some water? I am parched to the bone," said Diego.

"I don't wonder," said Padre Ramon feeling of Diego's forehead. "You have a very high temperature. Probably as a result of all of these injuries. I have some medicine that is good for reducing such fevers. Here it is. I'll just put some in this glass of water and bring it to you."

Diego accepted the water gratefully and then leaned his head back against the chair and within minutes he fell asleep dead to the world. He had come as far as his strength of will would carry him. There was nothing left to give.

"Yes, my son, sleep," said the padre quietly. "I have to clean these wounds and it will not be very pleasant for you. When you wake it will have been done and you will have been spared any more pain." With tears in his eyes, the padre began his task. An hour later he had cleaned Diego's wounds, especially the "M" and the deep puncture wound to his left arm. That one was showing signs of infection and he would need to get some better medication for it tomorrow. He had to cut Diego's trousers off and found another hundred wounds to tend. Appalled, he could not imagine how Diego had survived through all of this.

Going into the little room just off the bedroom that he used for meditation, he made a pallet there. Picking Diego up in his arms he was alarmed at how little he weighed. He carried him to the pallet and laid him gently there and covered him with some blankets. Then he picked up the ruins of Diego's clothing and cast about as to what to do with them. Finally, he took some paper and string and tied them up in a bundle. He shoved the thing as far under his bed mattress as he could. He would get rid of them later. He cleaned up everything else as best as he could and climbed back into his own bed after checking Diego one last time. Instantly he fell asleep.

All too soon his servant, Pablo, was shaking him awake saying, "Padre, it is time to get up."

The padre rolled over wondering if last night had been nothing but a dream. Then he saw the pistol and knife under the dresser where he had put them last night. Praying that Pablo would not see them, he ushered him out saying he felt the need for meditation and prayer today. Pablo could bring a large breakfast to his rooms and just leave it on the desk. Quickly, he closed the door after the servant was gone.

Padre Ramon rummaged through his things. He did not have any trousers for Diego, but he did have a shirt that would cover the territory until clothes for him could be arranged. Taking the shirt with him, he saw that apparently Diego had not moved all night probably due to his exhaustion and fever. Padre Ramon felt of Diego's forehead and thought that he was some cooler to the touch. He needed to give him another drought of medicine, but hated to wake him up to do so. Not having had a good chance to look at Diego's features in the candlelight last night, the padre looked at him now.

Even though he was thin and battered, he could see through the unkempt beard that there was a maturity there. Diego had been so young when he had last seen him. Now lines could be seen in his face, not all of them put there recently, but etched there over time.

"Life in California must be hard," he thought to himself. "I hope Diego is well enough soon so he can tell me what this is all about." He heard Pablo in the other room putting the breakfast tray down and then leaving.

Reluctantly, he shook Diego to wake him. Diego's eyes flew open and he tried to sit up. "Monastario!" he cried out.

Padre Ramon held Diego so that he could not get up. "Be still, my son. It is Padre Ramon. See? Look at me."

Slowly Diego's eyes focused. "Yes . . . yes. I see it is you," he said as he collapsed back onto the pallet.

"Here, drink this. It has some more of the medicine to break the fever. How do you feel? Could you eat something?"

"Yes, Padre, I think I could, gracias."

Leaving Diego to drink the medicine, he returned with the tray of food Pablo had brought. He put it on the small table in the room. "Here let me help you up," he said coming over to the pallet. As Diego started to throw back the blankets he caught himself and looked up at the padre. "Come now. For modesty's sake take this shirt and put it on. It is one of mine and I know you are not so large as it is." Diego slipped the shirt on and gathered up a blanket to put on his legs as he was helped to the chair.

Actually, Padre Ramon was glad Diego had covered up all of those cuts and bruises. The sight of them was still powerful enough to bring tears. He would have to see them later in order to treat them, but for now it was best that they were covered.

Diego was pale and his hair and beard were a sharp contrast to that paleness. His eyes met the padre's and for a moment the padre saw so many things in them he did not know if he could name them all. First was gratitude, then love for an old friend. There was a glimpse of the devil may care attitude that the Diego he knew three years ago would have had. But he also saw a hardness, a cold edge that he had not seen before. He saw resolve and a hint of a promise made which would be a promise kept if it was the last thing Diego did on this earth. He did not like that last look.

He offered Diego the food and water. While it was simple fare, there was a lot of it. Padre Ramon had a good appetite and when he told Pablo that he wanted a large breakfast, he got a large breakfast. Diego fell to with good spirit and soon the food was gone. "More to drink?" the padre offered, but was waived off. Diego sat back feeling better than he had in a very long time.

Padre Ramon said as he brought out his medicines, bandages and cloths, "Let us see about your injuries now that I can see them in a better light. Take off your shirt again and while I tend you, you can tell me what this is all about." He began to work on Diego's shoulder.


	12. Chapter Twelve

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **Chapter** **Twelve**

Diego began by pointing to his chest; at the "M" etched there. "It all starts with a man named Monastario," he began. He then proceeded to tell Padre Ramon about Capitán Enrique Sanchez Monastario and how his ambition to become the richest and most powerful man in California had caused him to abuse the king's laws to raise taxes on the peons who could do nothing to help themselves. The peons who could not pay had their possessions taken or were themselves taken for indenture. Monastario profited throughout. Diego's father was among the few of the landed gentry who could see the injustice to the lower class. The others would not concern themselves when they or their property was not being affected. But Don Alejandro was a man who prided himself on his fairness and honor and he could not idly stand by while a whole class of people was abused. Besides, he could see that Monastario would not stop with the peons. As his power and influence grew, who could say who would be next? But Don Alejandro was also a man who knew Monastario and his men outnumbered him. If he could not rally the other dons to see the danger, there was nothing he could do alone.

"So, Padre, he sent for me. He had hoped that the training I had received here in Spain would enable me to become the catalyst to bring the dons together and do something about Monastario. But while still aboard ship, I found out what the situation was in California and I realized that I could not put my father and the other dons in such danger. If the dons ever attacked Monastario and he defeated them, they would be at his mercy. They would have their lands confiscated and most assuredly they would be executed for treason against the king since Monastario was an officer in the king's army."

"It would seem to be a hopeless situation," said Padre Ramon.

"For a large assault on Monastario, yes. But I had an idea that one man, if he was adroit enough, could outwit Monastario and keep him so off balance that he would become immobilized. So I set myself to be that man. But in order to do so I had to perpetrate a fraud on my father."

Padre Ramon raised his eyebrows in surprise. He knew Diego loved and respected his father. He could not imagine this fraud.

Diego continued. "I had to convince Monastario that I was completely harmless: a scholar interested only in my books, my poetry, and my music. He must never suspect that I knew one end of a sword from another or that I had received a military education at the university. If he believed that, I would be free to act. But in order to fool Monastario, I had to also play the part before my father. My charade had to be complete. The only person who would know my secret was my manservant Bernardo. You may remember him?"

"Yes I do," said the padre. "He was completely devoted to you wasn't he?"

"Without him I am sure I could not have carried off my deception. He pretended to be deaf as well as dumb and so became the eyes and ears behind my back. It was during this time that I told Bernardo of the old saying "That when you could not clothe yourself in the skin of a lion, you put on that of a fox. That day was Zorro born."

"Zorro?" asked Padre Ramon. "Who is Zorro?"

"I am Zorro. By day I was the idle son of a rich haciendado, interested only in the softer, finer things of life. But by night, Padre, by night, I became Zorro the fox, dressed all in black and masked to conceal my identity. I carried a sword and was not afraid to use it."

"To what purpose, my son?" asked a concerned Padre Ramon.

"To stop Monastario in any way that I could. If he imprisoned someone falsely, I released him. If he tried to pull off a scheme to extract more money from the peons I found a way to disrupt it. Oh, the tales I could tell you, Padre!" Diego actually laughed for the first time.

"So you enjoyed playing this Zorro did you? You always were a rogue at heart," the padre said with fondness.

"Well, it was a test of my wits against his and all of my abilities against a whole cuartel of soldiers. As Diego, I was forced to maintain a facade of indifference to what was going on around me. But underneath, both I and Bernardo were watching, listening, and planning so as to stay one step ahead of Monastario. I never felt more alive as when I put my life on the line for those I had sworn to protect and defend. I did rather enjoy testing my skill with the blade against that of Monastario or his men. Monastario, for all of his other faults, is a very accomplished swordsman."

"You actually fought face to face?"

"Yes, but he did not know that it was Diego de la Vega who crossed swords with him. Or that it was I who foiled his plans time after time as Zorro. It was easy to humiliate him in front of his men or the people of the pueblo because of his ego and pride. This made him all the more determined to capture Zorro, and I, of course, obliged him by being a constant thorn in his side. He came to hate Zorro passionately."

"There must have been times when he suspected you were Zorro," said the padre. "You could not be in two places at once and he was bound to notice."

"You are right, Padre. As a matter of fact, after some time, he had put all the facts together. He had me arrested while I was Diego, dressed me in a copy of Zorro's costume and proclaimed me to be Zorro publicly at the Inn. In front of the Viceroy, no less!" said Diego seriously, but with a twinkle in his eyes.

Padre Ramon leaned forward, bandages forgotten, on the edge of his seat. "What happened then?" he asked.

"Well, I persuaded the Viceroy to test Monastario's claim by substituting someone else in Zorro's clothing and asking him to still identify Zorro as being me. He was so sure it was me still standing there that when the false Zorro was unmasked it was the last straw for him. He still declared me to be Zorro and demanded satisfaction. He challenged me to a duel."

"In front of everyone?"

Diego nodded.

"How did you get out of it?"

"I didn't. Not knowing what else to do, I fought the duel as Diego would do. I was as clumsy as I knew how to be, but Monastario knew the skill that it took to do so. If I fought as well as I could, as well as Zorro, I would be exposed. If I fought like Diego, I would die. If I won, I signed my death warrant for Zorro was wanted as a criminal and would be executed.

"I chose to continue the fight as Diego and soon the Viceroy, in pity, could not stand it any longer, so he called upon me to stop. In my moment of distraction, Monastario disarmed me and with his sword at my throat tried to force me to confess that I was Zorro."

"What else could you do?"

"I was wondering that myself, when Zorro came to the rescue."

"Zorro!"

"Yes, my faithful friend Bernardo had dressed himself as Zorro and had ridden Tornado, my horse, through the pueblo. As everyone could see, I was in full view and there was Zorro just outside. The soldiers fired their guns and gave chase, but Bernardo got away. I was exonerated and Monastario was humiliated once again. He was still convinced that I was Zorro, but he could never hope to prove his case to the Viceroy now.

"It was then that the Viceroy had Monastario arrested. He had come to investigate the reports of Monastario's misconduct and this incident had been the final straw. Monastario was sent under guard to Monterey and we heard no more of him."

"So that was the end of Zorro?" asked Padre Ramon resuming his work.

"Oh no. We received new commandantes and with each one I held out the hope that Zorro had ridden his last and that I could turn to a more normal life, perhaps get married, have children, all of that. But when we had a good commandante, we would be saddled with a bad magistrado, or an outsider like a man known as the Eagle would plot the overthrow of the Spanish government in California in order to rule it himself. Zorro dealt with each of these with the help of Bernardo.

"This had gone on for perhaps two years when I found out that my father had known who Zorro was for some time. It was a great relief. I had been a great disappointment to him after my return from Spain. It hurt me a great deal when he would show his frustration towards a son he thought was worthless. To once again find favor in the eyes of your father is a great thing, Padre." Diego smiled warmly at the thought.

"After that, he, Bernardo and myself worked together to rid California of injustice wherever we found it. Just before I was brought here, things had really settled down in our part of the world. Capitán Esposito, a simple, honest man was commandante in Los Angeles. Most of the bandidos had been jailed, executed or were afraid to come to Los Angeles because of Zorro." Here Diego flashed a smile. "I was beginning to get bored."

Padre Ramon looked up from his work, incredulous. But then upon reflection, he could well imagine Diego feeling that way. His devil may care attitude was well known at the university. He said, "Do go on."

"My father decided I needed something worthwhile to do instead of being an idle, rich man's son (he winked at the padre) so he sent me and Bernardo to Monterey to conduct some business for him, but his ultimate purpose, and mine, incidentally, was for me to visit a dear, young lady friend of mine, Anna Maria Verdugo." At Padre Ramon's raised eyebrow Diego said, "Yes, Padre, I was contemplating asking her to marry me. But as things can only be when one lives a fairytale life, this wonderful plan was not to be fulfilled. On the road to Monterey, Bernardo and I were beset by an overwhelming number of bandidos. As Diego, I was not wearing a sword and before long Bernardo lay unconscious or dead in a ravine and I was knocked out cold after I attempted to rescue him. I can only pray he is still alive, because I never saw him again."

Diego looked so sad over the loss of his servant that Padre Ramon stopped his ministrations and said a prayer for Bernardo. "Thank you, Padre," said Diego gratefully. "He is more than a servant to me. A truer friend I could never hope to have."

He continued. "When I came to, I found that I had been carried on board a ship bound for Spain! I was only told that I was to be reunited with someone. My captors would not tell me whom. I was kept locked and chained in a small room in the ship, not being able to go above into the sunlight and fresh air. When we reached Spain, I did learn who had ordered me brought here." In a deadly, quiet voice Diego said, "It was Monastario."


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **Chapter** **Thirteen**

"Monastario!" exclaimed Padre Ramon.

"Si. Somehow Monastario had weaseled his way out of the charges against him and returned here to Spain where he once again wields great power, perhaps even more than he did in California. Monastario knew in his heart that I was Zorro and the humiliation he had suffered ate at him until he, along with another man whom Zorro had run out of California, hatched this plot to bring me here. Their purpose…? Revenge.

"Monastario planned it so that he could have me completely at his mercy. I was placed in a cell where he could come each night and gloat over me. One of the first things he did was to carve his initial on my chest. He said it was for all of those "Z's" I cut into his uniforms and other things while I was Zorro. You can see the result on my person." Here Diego's eyes seemed to smolder.

"After Monastario had gotten his fill of hurting me, humiliating me . . . breaking me, he was going to kill me. Escobar, the other man, was in complete agreement on that score. But they wanted to savor their revenge, especially Monastario, so he contrived a way to do so. Each night he would come to my cell, sword in hand, to fight me. All I had been given was a 'sword' made of bamboo. He would cut me to ribbons and strike me when I could not defend myself. There was no use to try and talk to him, so I kept silent. This went on for three endless nights, Padre.

"I finally devised a way to escape and as I was fleeing his house, I had the chance to make a promise to him which I intend to keep. The only safe haven I could think of was you, Padre Ramon. You don't know how I prayed that you had not been transferred elsewhere during my absence when I began to climb into your window. Your voice was that of an angel's when I heard it come out of the darkness."

By this time Padre Ramon had finished dressing Diego's wounds. It was going to take a long time; several weeks at best, to bring Diego back to some semblance of "good" health. "Well, Diego my son, your angel has a decidedly heavy heart for what you have had to bear. I am glad to help you all that I can. What can be done about Monastario? Can we go to the authorities?"

Diego closed his eyes and shook his head slowly as he opened them. "No, Padre. This is something Zorro started and Zorro is going to have to finish. The authorities here in Spain will not take my word over his since he has established himself here. I am merely a provincial.

I am also here without official authorization and can be put in jail for that alone. He has but to denounce me as a spy and I am finished. If I can prevail upon you for somewhere safe to stay while I heal, I would be most grateful."

The padre tried again. "Then let's just try to get you back home somehow. I have a few ship's captains that I can call upon for favors now and then. One of them is sure to help you return home."

"No, Padre. This time they only kidnapped me. Next time it may be a shot in the back or they may attack my father or someone else I love. No, it is best to stop it here so it can go no farther. It must end here. Escobar is not a threat to me without Monastario. He does not have the courage to continue this without him. So Monastario is the key. He must be brought to justice, and when there is no justice, there is Zorro," Diego said firmly.

"Is Zorro a man of revenge?" asked a concerned Padre Ramon.

"Until six months ago, Padre, I would have cried a resounding no! My only thought was to stop injustice wherever it was found, to right the wrongs that I saw, to help the weak oppressed by the strong. I was content with that. Of those I opposed, I harbored no hatred toward any of them beyond hatred of what they did. Mostly I pitied them for the lives they could have lead, but chose not to. Even Monastario. He could have been a great commandante, but he let ambition and greed overtake him. By the time I got to California, it was too late to change him."

Diego's eyes hardened. "But I have no more pity for Monastario. He has caused me to hold the bitterness of hatred in my heart. Pray for me Padre, that what I must do as Zorro is done for justice's sake and not for hatred or revenge."

The padre began putting away the medicines and cloths he had used on Diego's wounds. He himself had to fight feelings of hatred for what had been done to Diego. The only thing he could do was as Diego said, help him to heal and pray for him. Diego had told his story in such nobleness of spirit that it nearly broke the padre's heart to see the weight that was on the shoulders of the carefree youth that he had set upon a ship bound for California some three years ago.

"Come then, Diego we will speak no more of this now. Back to bed with you. Sleep is the best thing for you now. I will pray for you and I am sure God will show us what is right." He helped Diego slowly walk to the pallet and lay down. He was asleep almost instantly. The long talk had exhausted him.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **Chapter** **Fourteen**

The padre set about making himself ready to go out. He needed to make sure the safe house he had in mind was readied for Diego. It had not been used in quite a while. He also had to obtain some clothing for Diego. Getting him to the house without being seen is where the difficulty lay. In his opinion, Diego would not be strong enough to travel for several days and every day he stayed in the Padre's meditation room increased the likelihood of discovery. But it could not be helped. Pablo came in to take the breakfast tray away and was told he would not be needed the rest of the day as the padre had some visits to make.

Leaving a note where Diego would see it, his first stop was a shop to buy some clothes. He brought them back and left them where the young man would find them. Then he went out again.

The safe house was out of town a little distance; well off the main road. Its chief advantage was a fairly large courtyard in the back surrounded by a high wall. The padre was certain that Diego would want to exercise to regain his strength and along with that could come fencing exercises. He wanted no one to be able to see that. Too many questions would be asked.

He went to the local farmers for some food and wine, which he carried to the house. It was not large, but it had room for two beds and some tables and chairs. It was a bit dusty inside, but otherwise in good shape. He aired out some linen and made up both of the beds with the freshened bedding. He made sure the well out back was in good shape and that the cistern held plenty of water. He placed some additional clothing for Diego in a chest of drawers near the bed. Finally he felt he had done as much as he could for now and decided to get back to the university. It would be getting dark by the time he got there.

As he closed the house and walked back to the university, he thought of Diego who had shouldered the burden of ensuring justice in a wild land such as California. Corruption in government and in the dispensing of justice was so commonplace that he had not really given it any conscious thought, even here in Spain. It was part of the fabric of life. But there was young Diego, with his father and a servant trying to right the wrongs that they saw.

Perhaps the way they went about it was not the accepted way, but where had that gotten anyone? Pleas for justice had fallen on deaf ears more than once even from instances in Padre Ramon's own life. But unlike Diego, he had accepted it and gone on.

Diego had learned about honor and integrity from his father, but he also thought Diego must have been born with an innate sense of justice as well. All the time he was at the university, he excelled at everything he tried, but never once, to his knowledge, had Diego stepped on anyone unfairly in order to gain advantage for himself as so many of his fellow students had done.

In many instances he had taken up for those who could not defend themselves. This had not made him popular among some of the elite. Perhaps it was that his innate sense of what was right reminded them of just how flawed they really were. He was the looking glass that reflected their true selves back at them.

And at the same time, Diego was mischievous to a fault. Padre Ramon laughed to himself as he went along the road as he remembered some of the pranks pulled by Diego, not only on fellow students, but even on the padre himself. No one else had dared to do such a thing before, but perhaps that is why the padre found himself drawn to the young man's company. His chess games with Diego were always challenging and after the first month or so, it became a rare thing whenever he beat Diego. Perhaps they could get in a few games while he was convalescing.

Padre Ramon found himself at the university just before dark. As he made his way to his building, he noticed that there were guards posted at strategic points around the perimeter of the university grounds. Approaching one of the guards he inquired as to their presence.

"There is an escaped criminal loose, Padre," the guard said. It is said he is a spy (at this word the padre's heart began beating hard). He is suspected to be hiding in the university somewhere. A search is being conducted."

After a few more questions, he found out that the south side of the university was being searched first. The church buildings had not yet been searched. But they would be, of that he had no doubt. As he walked to his rooms, he met Pablo and told him to bring him a large evening meal. He would eat in his room tonight as he was tired after his long walk.

As he entered his meditation room, he was disturbed to find the pallet gone and all the bedding put away. Where could Diego be? If he had been found, Pablo would have been beside himself with excitement, but he had said nothing. Suddenly, out of a shadow Diego appeared.

"Good evening, Padre," he said. "I hope you had a pleasant day."

"Don't do that!" gasped Padre Ramon jumping. "You have scared me out of ten years! What happened?" He indicated the floor where the pallet had been.

"I woke up some time late this afternoon," said Diego. "As I looked out of the window, I saw Monastario posting guards all around the university. I knew that if they began a building by building search they would eventually end up here and I did not want them to find any evidence here that would incriminate you. So I put on the clothing you had left for me and put the bedding away. I have been waiting and watching ever since."

"The clothes fit pretty well, I'd say, Diego, and ordinarily I would say you should not be out of bed yet, but you are right. They are conducting a search for you. They have started on the other side of the university and so we have time yet before they will get here. Pablo is going to bring some food up here for me. We shall eat and lay our plans to get you out of here and to a safe house I have outside of town."

It was only a few minutes later that Padre Ramon heard the clank of dishes. "It's only Pablo. Keep out of sight until I can send him on his way." Soon the padre was back with the dishes, which he placed on the table.

Walking over to Diego he placed his hand on his forehead. "Ah, much better. I would say the fever is almost gone. One more dose of medicine tonight and you will be rid of it. Come, let us eat."

While he and Diego ate, he described where the safe house was. Diego was familiar with the roads in that area because he used to go riding out that way, most often in a carriage with a señorita or two. Padre Ramon said that was good because Diego might have to go there by himself. If the search of this building was made, the padre had to be found here as usual or arouse suspicions. He could not help Diego if he was in jail.

"Zorro would get you out," was Diego's heartfelt reply.

"Yes, my son, but who would get Zorro out next? I'm afraid I'm not built for it!" he said as he indicated his girth. They both laughed.

When they stopped, they heard steps coming up the hall. "That is probably Pablo coming back for the dishes. Vanish like Zorro again, please." He turned to meet Pablo. Diego stood in the shadows as Pablo picked up the dishes and remarked in worried tones that they were searching the building next door and would soon be searching this one. Sending him on his way, Padre Ramon said, "You heard?"

"Yes, I heard," replied Diego. "I need to leave now before they surround the place with guards." He peeked out of the window between the shutters. "Good, it is getting very dark and the moon is being covered by clouds tonight. Blow out those candles and I will be away."

"How will you get past those guards, my son? They have guns as well as swords."

"Yes they do, but they do not know Zorro. Only Monastario and Escobar know him and they are much to preoccupied searching for me to think about him. I thank you for being thoughtful enough to bring me dark clothing. It makes this much easier."

"Wait. Would a dark cloak help? I have one in the other room that I can give you."

After he went and got it he found Diego with one of the padre's bandas in his hand. The cloth was black and Diego was working on it with his knife. Before he knew it, Zorro stood before him. Diego had fashioned a mask from the banda material and had tied it on. Taking the black cloak from the padre, he put it on with a flourish.

"Except for not having a hat, it is much like my old costume," said Zorro smiling. "Ah, but you can't have everything."

Padre Ramon was overcome by the transformation. It extended beyond just the costume. It was the persona that enveloped Diego. It was as if Diego was not there even though he was.

"Padre," Zorro said softly. "If you don't close your mouth, flies will get in," and he smiled such a smile as Padre Ramon knew he would never forget. He closed his mouth. "All right, now blow out the candles and I will be away from here. Do not come to the safe house for two days just to make sure no suspicion attaches to you." With that Zorro was out of the window and gone. By the time Padre Ramon got to the window and looked out, Zorro was nowhere to be seen.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **Chapter** **Fifteen**

Zorro crouched silently at the base of the building. Padre Ramon's window was directly above him. Every muscle and wound of his had protested greatly as he had descended to the ground. But he had gritted his teeth and persevered. Looking left and right, he scanned the area to see who was around. For the moment, he was alone. Reaching back to the base of the building, he pulled out the sword he had secreted earlier and buckled it on.

As he had the night before, he faced the large, open area that he had to pass over before he could gain the trees on the other side and make his escape. He noted with dismay that the guards all seemed to be facing the university. They would be sure to see his movements no matter how dark it may be. Then suddenly he turned to his left as he heard a loud, familiar voice as it cried, "Come quickly! Come quickly! I thought I saw someone run between those buildings over there. Yes, I am sure of it! What did he look like? Well I didn't see him well you understand, but he was wearing a very dirty white shirt that was full of holes.

Zorro smothered a laugh. It was Padre Ramon giving a false report! "Hurry, perhaps you can catch him!"

As Zorro pulled back deeper into the shadows, he saw all of the guards in the vicinity run to where the commotion was going on. Bless the priest! He was giving Diego a way to make good his escape.

As fast as he could, Zorro moved across to the trees on the other side of the open area. He was well out of breath when he got there, so he leaned back against a tree as he looked back for pursuers. He could not tarry long because he did not know how soon it would be until the guards were re-posted. Keeping to the darkest shadows, he kept moving until he was well away from the university grounds and heading into the streets of the city.

He recognized many landmarks from his time here as a student and so had no difficulty finding his way out of town. He had about three miles to go to reach the safe house. It took him until midnight to get there because he had to stop and rest often. Only one barking dog had threatened to give him away during the journey, but the owner had merely cursed the dog and thrown something at it to make it be quiet.

Even in his exhaustion, Zorro kept his caution intact. He studied the house from a little distance before going up to the small side door the padre had told him about. Using the key, he let himself in and leaned back on the closed door for support.

In the darkness of the house, Zorro was just able to make out that there was a table in front of him with a cup and a bottle of wine on it. Padre Ramon had thought of everything. Gratefully, Zorro poured wine in the cup and drank it down. He immediately felt much better.

Even though he was very tired, he made himself go around and acquaint himself with the small house. He noted each of the doors and windows and made sure of how their latch mechanisms worked. Then he ventured out into the walled back yard and noted with satisfaction the height of the walls that would give him privacy as he convalesced. One more thing and then he could rest.

Going back through the house, he went outside and walked the perimeter of the house and walled yard to gain knowledge of the land outside. He saw with relief that the area had many opportunities for cover should escape become necessary.

Returning back inside, he locked the door then proceeded to take off his sword and cloak which he hung on a peg near the bed. He took off his mask and tucked it into his shirt. Pouring himself another cup of wine, Diego went to the bed and put his pistol under the pillow. He kept his knife in his waistband. Getting on the bed, he drank the wine slowly and almost before he could finish it he was dead asleep, cup still in hand.

When next he awoke, the day was almost gone. Groaning to himself, he rolled off of the bed holding onto the bedpost for support. When was he going to be able to move without hurting so much he wondered. Stiffly at first, then a little better as he moved around, he went to each window and looked out carefully, but saw nothing amiss.

Looking back at the room, he saw a chest of drawers with a mirror and a wash basin on the far wall. He went to wash his face. The drawers of the chest produced soap, towels and a razor. At first, Diego was going to shave his beard off, but then decided merely to trim it into shape. He thought it would help disguise him to anyone who might have known him before.

Carefully he began to wash his wounds after taking off his clothes. The "M" on his chest seemed to burn into his eyes every time he looked into the mirror. He turned so as not to see it, but then Monastario's face flashed in his mind's eye. Grimly he went on washing himself. The wound on his left arm was looking better. The angry redness surrounding it had begun to lessen, but it was devilishly painful if bumped or if he used the arm much. His other wounds were still sensitive to the soap and water but he was relieved to see that they were showing signs of healing.

When he was done, he looked in the other drawers of the chest and found some fresh clothing, which he put on. The new clothing was not dark like those he just took off so he completed his transformation back to Diego.

Selecting some bread, cheese and another cup of wine, he went out into the walled yard and sat on the doorsteps of the house. How good it was just to have the sun shine on his face! He had not had this simple freedom for months. The food was forgotten as Diego absorbed the fresh air and the sunshine and heard the birds singing in the trees. Silently, a single tear traced its way down his face for the simple joy of it.

But his stomach would not be denied and it soon reminded him of its emptiness. So until sundown, Diego sat and ate his meal on the steps of the little house.

The night and the next day passed uneventfully for Diego. He slept quite a lot. Once or twice he went outside to try and move around to reduce his stiffness, but found he had no energy. He made some attempts at some basic fencing exercises, but found them unsatisfactory as he could not get his body to do what he wanted. Discouraged, he went to bed early and slept the night through.

On the third morning, Padre Ramon came early and looking at Diego, declared that he looked much better. Even though Diego protested, there was nothing for him to do but let the padre examine his wounds. They were determined to be satisfactory. The padre had brought some more food and wine and they soon sat down to breakfast.

"Diego, I have some good news," said the padre. "I told everyone at the university that I wished to take a sabbatical and write a book and they agreed to let me. I can come here Monday through Friday to work on the book and as long as I have several pages completed each week for my superiors to review, I don't anticipate anyone looking for me. I am pleased to be able to spend time with you my son, to renew our friendship and help you get well." He was rewarded by Diego's warm smile.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **Chapter** **Sixteen**

And so began a routine that would last for the next several weeks. The padre would arrive on Mondays bringing food and wine in a little push cart along with his writing materials and books. He had already brought a chess set and a guitar. They ate together and held long discussions on all sorts of interesting topics. He told Diego all of the news from the university, bringing him up to date from the time he had been called home. They discussed the current crop of fencing students as the padre had kept an interest in the sport due to his friendship with Diego. He had a fair knowledge of the art though he had never participated in it.

At other times, Diego would go out into the yard to exercise and practice his own fencing skills. Padre Ramon would sit at the table in the yard writing on his book and watching Diego. He saw the fierce determination on Diego's face and the disappointment and frustration there when his body wouldn't do what he desired it to do.

The padre was there to counsel patience. Diego would have to build himself up gradually, he had gone through too much to overcome it in a week or two. He was also there to provide encouragement whenever a small improvement was made.

At night, they would sit by candle light and as the darkness of the night enfolded them, Diego would talk of his father and the rancho, and of his life in California. And he would tell the stories of Zorro. These stories would alternately leave the padre hopelessly lost in laughter or on the brink of tears.

There was much injustice in such a raw land, but the people were championed by a young man, full of life and keen wit, who had, along with one servant and his own father, Don Alejandro, made such a difference. Why, if only half of the stories Diego told were true, Zorro bordered on the supernatural!

Padre Ramon gained an insight into this duality of persons in Diego. Zorro was the real Diego. Brash, bold, and witty, with a strong sense of right and wrong, the swordsmanship of a master swordsman; these were all the things that Diego was made of; all the things Zorro was privileged to use as his. The Diego of California was a caricature; not genuine. And although Diego did not say much about it, Padre Ramon knew that the life he had dreamed of having had been set aside while he battled injustice in the only way he could.

As the weeks passed, the wounds Diego had suffered healed well, though he would always bear the scars, especially Monastario's "M". Padre Ramon noticed that whenever Diego caught sight of himself in the mirror with his shirt off that he would instantly turn away with a look of loathing on his face. At such times, the padre wished that somehow he could receive that scar on his own body if it would remove it from Diego's. He knew that it served to constantly remind Diego of Monastario and all that had passed between them.

Diego had not spoken much more about what had happened in that cell under Monastario's house, but the padre would sometimes find Diego brooding and he could well imagine what it was about. When caught, Diego would not acknowledge what it was that was bothering him, but would change the subject or go outside to practice. Those practice sessions were especially intense.

During the middle of the third week, Padre Ramon went into the city to do some research for his book at the university library. When he returned to the safe house, he told Diego that he had received notification that a special envoy from the Vatican was coming the next week and that he was going to be required to spend the week participating in ceremonies and meetings.

"So you will be on your own, my son," he said. "Promise me that you won't get into any trouble while I am gone."

Diego gave the padre one of his famous smiles and then held up his hands as if to say, "Who me?" The padre played the stern priest, "Don't play the innocent with me, Diego. I know that without me here to entertain you, your natural restlessness will assert itself."

"I will be very careful, Padre," was all that Diego would say.

Padre Ramon left that Friday afternoon saying that he would not be back until a week from Monday. Saturday evening found Diego at the local tavern. He performed a few magic tricks for a welcoming audience and gained several pesos for his efforts. Soon he found a card game and joined in. When he left several hours later, he had about fifty pesos to jingle in his pocket. He stayed at the safe house all day Sunday out of respect for the sabbath.

The next day was Monday and Diego went to the outskirts of Madrid and there found a larger tavern with a better class of customers. By early afternoon, he had captured about five hundred pesos from various patrons. He never wagered big or humiliated anyone enough to make anyone a sore loser. As a matter of fact, the person who had lost the most to him had bought a round of drinks for all the players.

As soon as he could, he went further into town to a tailor shop that he remembered made fine clothing and fancy dress costumes for the gentry to wear to balls. There he was measured for a new suit of a fine cut, very similar to the suits he wore back home. He was also measured for a shirt, bola and riding pants made of black material.

Not wanting to draw too much attention to himself, he went to three other stores and bought black riding boots and gloves, a black hat, and a black silk cape. From a trade shop, he bought a beautiful sword of good Toledo steel. All these things he took home with him.

On Wednesday and Thursday he went to several other taverns and won two or three hundred pesos at each one. He did not stay too long in each place and he was very careful not to make any enemies. On Friday he returned to the tailor's shop to pick up his garments after he had won some more money at a couple of taverns.

In all, Diego had amassed about fifteen hundred pesos and had acquired two new suits of clothing. Not a bad week's work if he said so himself.

During the week, Diego had not let up on his training regimen. As he regained his stamina and strength, his workouts had become even more exacting. He strove for perfection in all of his fencing exercises, going over everything again and again until they became second nature. He knew he would have to be at his best the next time he faced Monastario. He was too good of a swordsman to not take advantage of any weakness in Diego's technique. Sometimes he indulged himself by fancying that Monastario faced him on the other end of his sword. The padre would have been frightened to see his face then.

Soon it was Monday again and Padre Ramon returned. Diego was glad to hear about the fine visit by the envoy and the part his friend had played in it. The padre was amazed at how much difference another week had made in the young man's appearance. His face was glowing with good health and his movements were smooth and graceful. There was not a trace of the effects of his injuries.

As he watched Diego practice that afternoon, he kept thinking , "If only Diego's former fencing instructor could see this!" Diego had been an excellent fencing student when he was at the university and eventually won all the highest honors in competition. But if Padre Ramon was any judge, there was not a master swordsman at the university who could hope to beat him now.

As Diego was cleaning his sword after the practice, Padre Ramon said, "My son, I noticed that you are using several movements that I have never seen before. Where did you learn them?"

Diego kept on cleaning the sword but said, "Well padre, when one's life has been placed on the line as mine was in California, necessity teaches you many new things." And he looked up with an amused expression on his face. Padre Ramon could only shake his head in amazement. It still struck him forcefully every time he was reminded of Zorro.

Later that evening, just as it was dark, Diego said he was going outside to enjoy a little night air. Padre Ramon had settled back to read a new book he had just acquired, first lighting the candle next to his chair. He had just gotten to the second chapter when he found the point of a sword pressed against his heart.

Startled, he looked up to see an apparition covered in black from head to foot. "Madre de Dios!" he exclaimed. It was Zorro. Not the patched together Zorro of four weeks ago, but well and truly Zorro.

"How do you like it, padre?" Zorro asked as he saluted him with the sword, grinning all the while.

"It is magnificent, Señor Zorro," cried Padre Ramon. "Come closer to the light so that I may see you better. I had no idea you were even in the room."

Zorro stepped closer. What the padre saw was the culmination of Diego's shopping of the past week. It was almost an exact duplicate of the Zorro costume he had worn in Los Angeles.

"So this is El Zorro, the man who strikes terror into the hearts of tyrants and bandidos and melts the heart of any señorita he happens to meet," said the padre.

"One and the same," said Zorro saluting grandly with the sword.

Once again the padre was struck (and even more so now) by the strength of this Zorro persona. So much so that he timidly asked, "Diego, are you in there?"

Zorro looking a bit puzzled, replied, "Yes, I am here, padre. Do you not see me?" And with that he pulled off the mask and pushed back the hat. The transformation from Zorro to Diego took but a second.

"That is most extraordinary, my son," said Padre Ramon almost under his breath. He did not elaborate. He thought it best for now to keep his thoughts about the Zorro persona to himself. So he changed the subject. "And how did you come by such fine clothes? When I left, you did not have a peso to your name. These clothes are not ill-gotten are they?" He could not bring himself to use the word 'stolen'.

"Oh no, Padre," Diego said, and he related how he came by such ready cash. Throwing a purse on the table he said, "I have enough there to purchase passage home to California when I have finished my business here."

Just that swiftly, Padre Ramon was reminded of the real reason behind all of this preparation. He had tended to bury that aspect of it during his concern for Diego's health and convalescence.

He was about to renew his plea for Diego to get on a ship and return home now, when he saw that Zorro had returned even without the mask on Diego's face. Zorro's eyes were hard and showed no mercy for Monastario.

"I am going into Madrid tonight to search out Monastario," he said evenly. As the padre leaned forward in fear for Diego, Zorro held up his hand. "No, I do not mean to engage him tonight. I merely wish to study him to determine his movements; his security arrangements. I will need at least a week to accomplish this and make sure that I am ready. I will be the one who decides when and where we shall meet, not Monastario." He tied the mask back on. "I will be back before the morning light. Good night, Padre."

With that he was gone from the room. "How he does that!" exclaimed Padre Ramon softly as he stared at the now empty room.


	17. Chapter Seventeen

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **Chapter** **Seventeen**

Zorro made his way silently through the streets of Madrid until he was close to Monastario's house. Needing perspective, he climbed up to the roof of an adjoining house and saw enough soldiers for a garrison posted around Monastario's house. "A little afraid of me, eh Monastario?" Zorro murmured to himself. "As well you should be." Something would have to be done about that. As Zorro watched and pondered, a plan came to him, but he would need the padre's help. He did not want to involve the priest any more than he already had, he was in danger enough. But he could see no other way to be able to get Monastario alone. Zorro made his way back to the safe house.

In the morning, Diego greeted Padre Ramon. The padre inquired as to what he was able to find out. Diego told him of the increased security. He said, "Monastario is very frightened by the notion that I may be lurking about somewhere. There are so many guards that I can not approach him at all. But, Padre, if I could convince Monastario that I am dead, he will no longer feel the need to be surrounded by so many guards. Tell me, what did you do with my clothing? The ones I was wearing when I first fell into your bedroom?"

"Oh!" said Padre Ramon. "I had forgotten them! They are tied up in a bundle stuffed under the mattress of my bed. I never took the time to dispose of them."

"Very well," replied Diego. "Then I will not have to try and duplicate them. That will save some time. Tonight I will go and fetch them plus one of the old study skeletons from the basement of the science building. I seem to remember there were several human skeletons stored down there gathering dust that no one ever looked at. You don't suppose anyone has moved them do you?"

"I have not heard of any renovations since you have been gone," said the padre.

"Good. I have a plan to convince Monastario that I am dead, but I need your help to pull it off," said Diego.

"Of course, my son. Just tell me what you want me to do."

"First, I must make sure that you know the danger you face by helping me. If Monastario has any notion that you are involved with me, you life will be endangered. If you do not wish to accept that, then I will find another way to accomplish the plan," he paused and put his hand on the padre's arm and looked at him sincerely, " I would not want any harm to come to you, Padre."

"My son, I accepted that possibility from the first. If there is anything I can do to help you, I will. I too want to see Monastario brought to justice."

"Gracias, Padre," said Diego smiling. "Then this is what we must do…"

They were busy the rest of the day and into the night. The next morning, Padre Ramon "found" on the bank of the river that ran close to the university, a badly decomposed body. All that remained was the skeleton and some ragged clothing. No one could identify who the body belonged to, so it was sent to the small storage building used for beggar's burials. Here the remains were placed in a cheap coffin to await the meager attentions of a priest before the body was consigned to the beggars graveyard.

By mid-morning, the padre presented himself at the house of Monastario seeking an audience. He was left waiting for over an hour, but finally one of the guards signaled him to come in. Monastario was sitting in his office behind a desk reading some correspondence. He barely acknowledged the presence of the priest. "Yes, what is it that you want," he asked tersely.

Padre Ramon wished that he could still the rapid beating of his heart. To be in the same room with the man who was responsible for Diego's severe injuries was frightening. He took a deep breath and gathered his courage. "I have some news that might be of interest to you, Capitán Monastario. The man that you were seeking at the university four weeks ago has been found . . . (at this, Monastario stood up). He is dead."

"Are you sure it is him?" said Monastario, his eyes boring into the padre's.

"Yes, I am certain, Capitán. If you might remember, I was the one who cried out that night at the university that I had seen a man in a dirty shirt, full of holes and tears, running away. The remains that I found at the river's edge this morning were covered by just such a shirt."

"I must see these remains for myself," stated Monastario forcefully.

"They are being kept at the beggar's graveyard awaiting burial, Capitán," replied the padre.

"You will accompany me there, padre," said Monastario striding out from behind the desk. As he buckled on his sword, he called for the guards to bring his carriage around. Padre Ramon found himself in the unenviable position of sitting across from Monastario for the trip to the storage building. He studied the man while they rode. He could not see any hint of human compassion in the face of the man before him. And those eyes. They were as ice cold as any he had ever seen. He could not bear to look at them long and bowed his head in prayer. It was not long; however, until they were walking into the storage building

"This is the one, Capitán," Padre Ramon said, indicating one of three plain and simple coffins.

Monastario signaled to his two guards, "Open it."

They did so. Inside, they saw the skeleton of a man along with dirty pieces of cloth. Diego's trousers were there and so was his shirt. Monastario's gloved hand reached in and grabbed hold of the shirt and lifted it up so he could see it better. The shirt had been a fine, white shirt once. But now, it was filthy and the remains of soot could be seen. The river water had not washed it all away. Also not washed away were the blood stains of a hundred wounds. Holes were in it everywhere. Monastario made a point of pulling up the left sleeve and examining it closely. Yes, there was a great stain of blood there where he had pierced de la Vega's arm through. There was no doubt, this was de la Vega's clothing and this body . . . these bones . . . were the bones of Zorro. He was really dead! Crushing the shirt in his fists, victory flared in his eyes and a smile, terrible in its intensity, found its way onto his face.

Getting hold of himself, he dropped the shirt and turned to Padre Ramon. His voice was calm and matter of fact when he said, "Yes, this is the man we were pursuing that night. Apparently he tried to swim the river to escape us and met his death."

If Padre Ramon had had any doubts about what kind of man Monastario was, they were gone now. What he had witnessed just now almost left him speechless, but he had a part to play and so he asked, "Will there be anyone to claim the remains, Capitán?"

"No," said Monastario.

"Then may I ask under what name shall we bury him? The burial for the other two and this one will be held tomorrow. We would like to have a name."

"Zorro. Use the name of Zorro," replied Monastario looking back intensely at the coffin.

Padre Ramon bowed to show his acceptance and Monastario, glancing at the remains once more in triumph, swept out the door followed by the guards. When the padre looked back, he saw Diego standing there with a drawn sword. Or was it Diego? Zorro seemed to be in the room also.

"What are you doing here, Diego!" he cried. "It is too dangerous to be so close to Monastario. If he had seen you…!"

"But he did not," interrupted Diego. "I had to know for certain that we were successful. I believe we were." He did not tell Padre Ramon how close he had come to leaping out of his hiding place and having done with Monastario right at the moment his face had shown such exultation over Zorro's "death". But the presence of the priest had stopped him. He would not risk injury or suspicion to fall upon him as being an accomplice. "Now we must see if the rest of the plan comes together. Come, let us go home now and I will observe things for a day or two to see how they go."

He turned to leave, but then turned back to the coffin containing the bones of a stranger. As Padre Ramon watched, he took his sword and carved a "Z" on the coffin lid. "Yes, let this poor soul be buried with the name of Zorro," he said softly. "No matter what he had done in his former life, he deserves to have a name on his marker."


	18. Chapter Eighteen

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **Chapter** **Eighteen**

Later that night, around eight o'clock, Zorro entered the house of Monastario by the use of a second story window that had been left open. To his satisfaction, all but a few house guards had been sent away. There was no guard in sight outside the house. He went down to the first floor and observed where the guards were placed. While he was there he heard voices in Monastario's office. It was one of the guards announcing that Señor Escobar had arrived. Zorro just had time to fling himself into a deep shadow behind a cloak cabinet in the hallway as Monastario swept past him on the way to the salon. He peered around the doorway into the room.

Monastario greeted Escobar warmly. Escobar explained that he had come with all haste as soon as he had gotten Monastario's note. "What news do you have of Zorro?" he asked.

Zorro smiled his grim little smile as Monastario proclaimed, "Zorro is dead! I have seen his remains. He is to be buried in the beggar's graveyard tomorrow!"

"Zorro is dead?" said Escobar in disbelief. "This is wonderful news. And you are very sure of this?" He looked questioningly at Monastario. At a glare from the capitán, Escobar nodded his head in acceptance. "Tell me all about it then. I want to enjoy the delicious details!" So Monastario gave him all the story that Padre Ramon had told him and spoke of his own examination of the remains.

"This requires a drink to celebrate, my dear Monastario. Imagine! Zorro is dead. These are words of comfort to me. I have not slept well for the many days since his escape." As Escobar rattled on, Zorro decided to continue to search through the house and make doubly sure of the guard postings and where the best hiding places were located.

Later, after Escobar had gone, he placed himself where he could watch Monastario as he entered his office. The capitán poured himself some wine and sat gazing into the fireplace a long time. Zorro, watching from the shadows, was lost in thought himself, remembering what the capitán had done to Diego. He rubbed his chest absently. Another two days and Monastario would answer for his crimes, and not just for those committed in California. He would answer to Zorro for the injustice Diego had suffered here in this place. He had to shake himself back to awareness as Monastario left the office to retire for the night. He slipped out of the house and was himself in bed asleep by two o'clock.

The next night, just before midnight, Zorro came again to Monastario's house, this time entering through a ground floor window that he had unlocked the night before. This time he had a bag containing three large, metal cups with him. Setting the bag down carefully in a dark corner close to the door that led to his former cell, Zorro again made the rounds of the house to note that the house guards were where he had marked them before. Going back to the door, he picked up the bag and using the key he had acquired before, opened the door and went down to the cell where he had been imprisoned. Opening the door to the cell, he stepped in. As his eyes were adjusted to the dark, he had no difficulty in seeing by the moonlight that came in the small window. Nothing had been changed. Apparently, neither Monastario nor any of his guards had ever come in here again after Diego had escaped.

Suppressing a shudder, Zorro walked over to the small window. He took out the metal cups, which were loosely tied together with a string. Placing them at the base of the wall, he drew his sword and used it to lift the end of the string up to the window. Making sure it would stay, he left the cell and went back up the stairs closing and locking the doors as he went. Quickly, he gained the outside of the house and went to where the cell window was. He made fast the end of the string to the window bars. Then he just stood there in the darkness gripping the hilt of his sword tightly, looking at the cell and remembering.

Padre Ramon had fallen asleep in the chair that he liked to use for reading. He awoke with a start and looking at the stub of a candle on the table next to him, he judged it to be around two o'clock in the morning. A small motion caught his eye and he saw Zorro standing just inside the small circle of light cast by the candle. The eyes behind the mask caught the light and Padre Ramon felt as if they could see right through him, they were so intense. They seemed to be lit with a fire from within.

"Tomorrow night will be the night of judgement, Padre," said Zorro in a voice both low and deadly. "Justice is coming to Capitán Enrique Monastario."

The padre felt the finality of that statement. He looked at Zorro and saw him not as Diego de la Vega, but as the harbinger of final reckoning. In his own heart, he knew that Monastario needed to be brought to justice for his crimes against the people and that there was truly no one else who could or would do this but Zorro. But he also knew that this Zorro was not the Zorro of California. This Zorro was capable of using revenge as his motive for killing Monastario. For Diego's soul and for the padre's own peace of mind, he had to make Zorro see that.

So he leaned forward and said earnestly, "Be certain, Señor Zorro, that in your heart it is truly justice that you seek. The people of California suffered much under the hand of Monastario, but they suffered nothing like Diego de la Vega did when he was brought here to Spain." Zorro's eyes hardened further and their fire seemed to grow brighter. "The Diego de la Vega that I knew three years ago had a fine sense of justice for one so young. He went home to his father and found that through his unique abilities and wit he would be able to bring justice to a land where it was sorely lacking. Rarely, however, did those injustices touch Diego directly, and so he was able to be objective and fair when his justice was dispensed through you. But here on these shores, Diego de la Vega has had injustice exacted upon his own person. This has, I believe, changed who he is . . . who you are, Señor Zorro. Diego knows that by his hand Monastario must die. You Señor Zorro, mean to see that he does die, no matter what the cost is to Diego's soul"

Zorro said as though puzzled, "You speak as if Diego is not here. I am here, padre"

"No, my son. It is Zorro who has come here tonight. You have separated yourself from Diego. The person closest to you in the entire world has been horribly abused. Your inability to protect Diego then, and your desire to see Monastario dead now, has set you free. When you don the mask of Zorro, Diego is set aside; hidden from view. Only Zorro looks out of your eyes as we speak now. And even when Diego is not costumed as you are, there are more and more times when you, Zorro the Avenger, look out of his eyes. Diego is not aware of this, but I can see it. That is why I speak to you now. Are you El Zorro, whose heart cannot be touched; whose heart has been frozen by the chill winds of revenge, or are you Diego de la Vega, a man of honor who is only doing what he must to relieve this world of a sadistic, evil man?"

For many long minutes, Zorro's eyes locked with the padre's eyes. The silence was almost palpable. Zorro looked away into the distance in the general direction of Monastario's house. He was as unmoving as a statue. Then suddenly, Zorro took a long, shuddering breath as though he had just awakened from a deep sleep and, as he turned back to look into the padre's eyes, Diego de la Vega raised his hands and removed the mask from his face.


	19. Chapter Nineteen

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **Chapter** **Nineteen**

Padre Ramon held out his hands to Diego who took them and dropped to his knees beside the chair, bowing his head. The padre placed a hand on Diego's head in a caress and said, "Oh Diego, my son, it is good to welcome you back." His voice broke with emotion.

Diego lifted up his head and the padre saw tears making their way down his face. "Padre Ramon, you are so right. I had lost sight of myself. The role of an avenger was never one I truly wanted to play, but what Monastario did to me ate away at me until the bitterness of revenge settled into my heart. You are right. As Diego, I would tell myself that I was only seeking justice for the crimes of Monastario. But as Zorro, who has always had more freedom, my personal desire for revenge could take root in my heart and grow. I am so glad, Padre, that you were here to capture Zorro with your words and set me free."

Padre Ramon leaned forward and hugged Diego to him and Diego held on tightly. Then, getting to his feet, Diego stood up and began taking off the black clothing. Soon he was dressed in his regular clothing again. Bringing another candle to replace the one about to go out, he seated himself in the chair across from the priest. Neither of them spoke for a long time.

Finally, Diego asked with open hands, "What am I to do now? I have laid the groundwork for tomorrow night, but how can I go through with it? How do I know that even if I do not wear the black, that Zorro the Avenger will not capture me again? I do not think that I could live knowing that I had thrown away all I had believed in for the sake of revenge. Can I take that chance?" He paused. "No. I will have to give this up and put it behind me. I will go back to California and leave Zorro here. I will never dare appear as Zorro again for fear of the same thing happening all over." He shook his head slowly while looking at the floor.

Padre Ramon was taken aback. He did not have any idea that Diego would react this way. All he had tried to do was to get Diego to put everything back into order. To make sure that he was not ruled by the passion of revenge.

"Oh no, Diego. You cannot do that!" he said earnestly. "It would tear you apart in a very short time. You would see some injustice done and be helpless to do anything about it. It would break your heart, or worse, cause you to turn away and grow cold and indifferent. I did not mean that you should cast your other identity away. You are Zorro and Zorro is you. But Diego de la Vega is at the heart of both. As long as you listen to your heart and not to your passions, you will do what is right. That is your strength, my son. You know in your heart what is right. You had merely lost your way for a time and I helped you to see that. But it was you, Diego, who knew the way back. Now that you have seen what passion can do, I believe it will have no more power over you.

"I trust you, my son. And I say that you must finish what you have begun. Then we will send you home to your father and the people of California. I am sure they still have need for their champion."

Diego heard the padre's words and knew the truth of them. If he went back to California and was unable to do anything to strike a blow against injustice, life would indeed not be worth living. He resolved to take what he had learned about himself here tonight and embrace it. He would master his passions as he had mastered the sword. He was Diego de la Vega, who was also Zorro. They would never be parted until justice and fairness prevailed in California.

"I will keep my appointment with Monastario, Padre," he said with quiet resolve. "It will be a fight to the death; his or mine. But if he dies by my hand, I will mourn the death of the man he could have been, not for the man he had become."

The padre nodded solemnly. He felt the strength of Diego's resolve. "It is well, Diego my son," the padre said. "Come, let us go to bed now. It is very late and you need to sleep."

"And you also, Padre," Diego said. "I have two small tasks that I need for you to perform at Monastario's house tomorrow night. They are things I cannot do for myself or I would not ask you to come. It is not without some risk, but I should have everything prepared before you arrive and the risk should be minimal."

"I will be glad to offer my help in what small ways that I can," said Padre Ramon.

"Good. I will go over the plan with you in the morning," Diego said, patting the padre on the back as he made his way to his bed.

The next day, Diego explained his plan to the padre as much to satisfy the priest's curiosity as to make very sure he had left nothing out. He told of the layout of the house and how he planned to render each guard helpless before the final confrontation with Monastario. He made sure the padre knew how to find the door in the hallway that led to the cell underneath the house. The padre had one task to perform outside at the cell window and one task to perform within the house.

Diego leaned forward earnestly, "And this is important Padre, while you are at the cell window you are to listen for Monastario to enter the cell. When you hear him enter, you must come into the house and lock the cell door from the outside so that there will be no escape for Monastario. Here is the key. I will already be inside the cell by the time you get there. After that, I wish you to leave the house." He held up his hand when Padre Ramon would have protested. "No. I do not wish you to see what will happen. I would spare you from the sight of men trying to kill each other. You may return after one hour. By that time, all will be over one way or another.

"If, when you look in the cell window from outside, you see Monastario still alive, I will be dead. Leave at once. If, on the other hand, you see me alive, Monastario will be dead and you can come and let me out. I probably will have need of your assistance to come back here. You still have plenty of bandages, do you not?"

"Yes, my son," was all the padre could manage swallowing past the lump in his throat. The calmness with which Diego gave his instructions unnerved him. This was the most horrifying thing the padre had ever heard, that a man be locked in a room with his most mortal enemy from which there was no escape. But one look into Diego's eyes was enough to show him that this was the only way it could end. Although Zorro the Avenger no longer dominated Diego, the padre could see that he was committed to this course of action. In all honor, he could do nothing less.

The padre spent the rest of the afternoon in the house, saying prayers for Diego who knelt and prayed beside him for a time. But then he got up and went outside with his sword to perform some fencing exercises and to see to the sharpness of his blade. They spoke little during this time.

While it was still light outside, Diego came in and got the mirror, towels, soap and the razor and went back outside. Half an hour later, he came back in without the beard he had worn for the last several months. In its place was a small pencil thin mustache. "I want him to see me as being restored to my former self; as I was when he first met me . . . and Zorro," said Diego by way of explanation. The padre approved. The mustache gave just the right amount of accent to Diego's handsome face.

The padre prepared some food, but neither he nor Diego had any appetite for it. They each drank a glass of wine slowly as the night grew deeper. Time seemed to be slipping away from the padre. The hour when they must leave rushed upon him no matter how he longed to put it off. They would not travel into the city together for the padre would go to the church to pray and wait until it was time for him to perform his tasks. Diego would go on to Monastario's house to make sure all was ready.

Finally, Diego changed into the haunting black of Zorro's costume. Padre Ramon watched as each piece was put on with deliberation. After a time, everything was in place except the hat, gloves and mask. Diego tied on the mask and put on his hat. Then he turned to Padre Ramon as he pulled on the gloves. Stepping further into the candlelight, he looked the priest in the eyes.

"Who do you see, Padre?" he asked with quiet dignity.

The padre was proud to say, "I see Diego de la Vega, who is Zorro."

Diego smiled at him warmly and with a broad salute and bow to the priest, he was gone without a sound.

"How does he do that?" the priest murmured to himself. If he did not know better, he would have thought Zorro to be more than human. He shook his head and got up to leave himself. Down the road a little bit, he came to a man's house that had a cart that he could borrow. He placed his bundle of bandages and ointments in it and pulled it towards Madrid. He hadn't told Diego about it, but he had a feeling that he would need the cart before the night was over.


	20. Chapter Twenty

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **Chapter** **Twenty**

Zorro moved swiftly and silently towards Monastario's house. The pathway had become so familiar that he knew every shadow; every bit of cover that could be used to move unseen through the streets of Madrid. Tonight it was almost as if he were reborn. A new Diego, a new Zorro, born from the ashes of his recent life. He breathed another prayer of gratitude for the insight of Padre Ramon. Had Zorro succeeded in killing Monastario in a quest for revenge, Diego de la Vega would never have been able to heal the wounds to his soul. It would have been better if he had died back there in that cell than to be consumed by the need for revenge. But now he had been restored in both his mind and soul. He was under no delusion that this night would necessarily turn out in his favor, but he was certain that whatever the outcome, his honor and integrity would be intact.

To that end, Zorro was carrying a second sword this night. Should his own sword break, he harbored no notion that Monastario would let him use this second blade. But should Monastario's sword break, he would offer this sword to him so that he could die fighting with a sword in his hand. Zorro would do everything in his power not to have to kill Monastario in cold blood.

From a vantage point just up the street from Monastario's house, Zorro was brought up short. With dismay he noted the presence of no less than three carriages parked in the driveway. Monastario had guests this night of all nights! He could only pray that this gathering would not last so long as to interfere with his plans for tonight.

Deciding that he needed to know what was going on, he slipped around the house and entered through his customary window. This room was seldom used and therefore not lit. Unfortunately, most of the rest of the ground floor was well lit this evening in deference to the guests. Zorro could only venture out of this room in peril of his life because there were no shadows for him to hide in this night. He could hear Monastario speaking from where he was but could not make out what he was saying. He knew that there were two large, ornate cloak cabinets in the hallway next to the salon where the meeting was being conducted. The one facing the salon was empty as he had discovered in his earlier inspections of Monastario's house when he was marking possible hiding places. This cabinet was placed strategically so that he would be able to hear clearly, but if so much as one person looked the wrong way at the right time, all would be lost. Still, he must know what was going on! So much depended on Monastario keeping to his usual late night routine.

Looking down the hallway and listening as hard as he could, he decided no one was coming. Leaving the second sword leaning against the wall in the darkened room, he stole silently along the hallway. Just as he reached the cabinet, he heard the sound of tinkling glasses from around the corner of the hallway. In seconds, the orderly would turn the corner and see him. Throwing caution to the wind, Zorro leaped forward and entered the cabinet, closing the door behind him just as the orderly rounded the corner. Zorro breathed hard for a few moments. No alarm had been raised, so he must be safe for now.

The cabinet had some open fretwork in the doors just at eye level so Zorro could see and hear everything. He recognized Monastario at once and his heartbeat quickened. He forced himself to calmness. Over to the right, Escobar was sitting with a glass of wine in his hand. To his left, seated on a couch, were two men he did not know. They were well dressed, but he could tell they were not truly of the upper class. Both men took glasses of wine from the orderly who was then dismissed.

When they were alone again, Monastario began giving instructions to them on how to intercept military goods destined for parts of the European campaign and how to hide them in a warehouse owned by Escobar. In a month or so, those same goods were to be loaded on a ship sailing for Mexico, where they would fetch an enormous price. Monastario would make sure that the military goods would be left unguarded so that the two men, whose names were Dominguez and Rivera, should have no trouble getting them. Zorro made a mental note of all the names, dates and places. Should he survive this night, there would be additional good that he could accomplish by exposing this ring of thieves.

The meeting lasted until just after nine o'clock. Zorro could hear the chiming of the church bells from the university in the distance. Escobar remained for a while after the other two men left. He noted to Monastario that he would be returning in the morning to pick up some papers he would need to help carry out their plan. He had consumed several glasses of wine by now and feeling quite happy, he stood to propose a toast.

"Here is to Zorro," he began. Monastario looked angry for a second and then broke into an evil smile as Escobar continued. "Long may we cherish the knowledge that he is dead and that there are fortunes to be made now that he cannot interfere!" Glasses clinked and there was a short silence as each man drank his wine.

"Now I really must go, Capitán. Just let me get my cloak," said a tipsy Escobar. He walked unsteadily into the hallway right toward the cloak cabinet in which Zorro was hiding. Zorro shrank back from the door and grabbed the hilt of his sword, prepared to burst through should it be opened. But Monastario came to his rescue.

Grabbing Escobar by the shoulders, he turned him around and said, "No, estupido. Your cloak is in this one. Don't you remember?" So saying, he pulled it out and tossed it to Escobar who fumbled it on eventually.

"Gracias, " he said. "I will see you in the morning then. Buenas noches, Capitán." He walked unsteadily out the front door.

"Good riddance," mumbled Monastario. Zorro heard him go down the hallway and call for his orderly who was instructed to clean up the salon and extinguish all of the lights except the ones needed by the night watch. He was also to bring some more candles to Monastario's office as he had some papers to review. The orderly bustled around and soon had his work done. It was not long before the rooms and the hallway were darkened as usual for this time of night.

Zorro thankfully slipped out of the cloak cabinet. He had been in there for over an hour and was starting to get stiff. He stretched a little, then proceeded down the hallway after retrieving the other sword. Across from Monastario's office, Zorro settled in to wait again. The night house guard would be coming on duty at ten o'clock. Once they were in place, he could begin the first part of the night's planned activities.

Everything proceeded normally. The guards were posted as usual. After they had time to settle in and become drowsy, Zorro moved through the house to the guards who were farthest away from Monastario and systematically began to knock them out. He bound and gagged them, leaving them hidden from sight. Finally, just before eleven o'clock, there were just two guards and Monastario who were free. The guards were the ones posted closest to Monastario's office.

Zorro moved to his former hiding place near the office, where he could see Monastario as he was seated at his desk. He could remember the last time he had watched Monastario from this vantage point. However, this time, he was at peace within himself. He almost pitied the man as he sat there so confidently at his desk, only moments away from death. But the time had come when Monastario must answer for his crimes. He had cheated justice long enough. Zorro and Diego both were here to see justice done, nothing more . . . and nothing less.


	21. Chapter Twenty-One

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **Chapter** **Twenty One**

Zorro took a deep breath and wished for the church bells to sound eleven o'clock. In just a few moments, they did. "Now!" cried Zorro silently. "Now, Padre Ramon, do your part!" And in the silence of the night, Zorro could hear the clanking of the metal cups in the cell as the padre pulled on the string attached to the cell window.

At first, Monastario appeared not to hear. Then the sound grew a little louder. Monastario looked up peering into the darkened hall. "Guard," he called. "What is that sound?"

"I do not know, mi Capitán, but it seems like it is coming from the cell down below," said one of the guards. The second one nodded in agreement. Grabbing his sword and buckling it on, Monastario swept out of the office and across to the wooden door that led down to the cell. He did not see the shadow that fell in behind them. The clanging of the cups was incessant now.

"Open this door!" barked Monastario, totally unnerving the guard who fumbled with the keys. "Idiot! Give me those!" and Monastario snatched the keys, opening the door himself. At the top of the stairs, he ordered the guard to light the torch located there. That done, he grabbed the torch, and started down the stairs ahead of the guards. Only, . . . he was not aware that there was only one guard now.

Louder and louder grew the clanking as they reached the cell door. Holding the torch in one hand, he used the keys to open it. As soon as he stepped into the cell, the cups rattled and clanged one last time as Padre Ramon cut the string and let them fall to the floor of the cell. Monastario went over to examine them, first placing the torch in a holder so both hands would be free. He did not notice that the last guard had not followed him into the cell, and that a shadow as dark as the night had.

Monastario had the cups in his hand as he turned to instruct the guards to have the grounds searched around the house. What he saw was that there were no guards; that he was alone in the cell. No, . . . not alone. Out of the gloom, walked a black ghost. Monastario could only stare open mouthed at this apparition. Finally, he said almost inaudibly, "Zorro." The cups fell from Monastario's hand to land next to the wall as the two men stood looking at each other for a long moment in the torch light.

Zorro stood straight and tall, with his hand resting lightly on the hilt of his sword. His eyes never left Monastario's.

"Enrique Sanchez Monastario," he said in a clear, strong voice. "I will give you a few minutes, should you desire them, to make your peace with God. You are about to answer for the multitude of crimes you have committed both here and in California. They are too numerous to speak, but you well know what they are. When the Viceroy had you arrested, we were sure that justice would be served. But you found corrupt men in the service of the king who set you free to once again commit crimes against the king and the people. This cannot be allowed. You cannot corrupt me, Monastario. Justice shall prevail and I am justice in this place. Pray to God or draw your sword now and prepare to die."

As he finished speaking, Zorro heard the sound of the cell door being closed and the lock being turned. He saw that Monastario had heard it also. Zorro drew his own sword and flung off his cape in one motion. "There is now no escape for either of us," he said solemnly, saluting Monastario with his sword.

Monastario's rage knew no bounds. He whipped out his own sword. Both men's blades flashed in the gloom of the cell as they caught the light of the torch. The two men were just out of reach of one another.

Through grinding teeth, Monastario said, "I enjoyed great satisfaction when I thought you dead and consigned to hell, Señor Zorro. But you are equal to the great deceiver himself! I will now take even greater pleasure in sending you to hell by my own hand!" With that, he leapt upon Zorro, sword flashing in the torchlight.

Zorro met Monastario move for move. Around the cell they went time and again. Zorro's great skill was being matched by Monastario's complete devotion to the idea of killing Zorro. Sparks flew from their swords, punctuating the night like living exclamation points. On and on they went without respite until finally, after one particularly heavy flurry, they each stepped back to catch their breath.

Monastario's eyes bored into Zorro's. Taunting him, he said breathing heavily, "I see you are still ashamed to show your face, de la Vega. You still hide behind the mask of a mangy fox. Do you dare face me without 'him' to hide behind?"

Without hesitation and without taking his eyes off of Monastario, Diego reached up and removed his mask and tossed away his hat.

Monastario said through a leering grin, "That is better. I can now see your face more clearly when I slice you to bits. I wonder, do you still carry the scar of my initial that I carved into your flesh, de la Vega?" He moved the point of his sword to trace an "M" in the air in front of Diego's chest.

Diego couldn't control his reaction and stepped back a pace. Monastario was quick to reply, "Yes, I see that you do. Tell me," he sneered, "Does it bother you when you look at yourself in the mirror?"

Diego's anger at Monastario grew steadily. He could almost feel the fire from that scar on his chest scorching his skin. As Monastario laughed at him, the flame deepened until it felt like his whole body was being consumed. His eyes began to feel as if they too were on fire. He was within a hair's breadth of losing control when he remembered . . . something about . . . eyes . . . and just who it was who looked out of his. The flames died away.

Lifting his head proudly, he said, "I am Diego de la Vega, son of Don Alejandro de la Vega. You cannot confound me with your words, Monastario. I will not lose my reason or my temper, for I can see that you are trying to goad me to recklessness. The bitterness of revenge no longer poisons my heart and I am here to render justice as a man of honor must do and nothing more."

Seeing that his ploy to make Diego lose his temper and thus become careless had failed, Monastario cried, "Justice! I spit on your justice!" and began the assault again. This time the sparks flew thicker than before. At one point, Monastario took advantage of a momentary lapse on Diego's part to slam him into the wall and just missed slicing Diego's throat open as he ducked away. As it was, his blade struck the wall and snapped. Turning in fear, he looked at Diego expecting to die.

Breathing heavily, Diego pointed over to one of the darkened corners of the cell with his sword and said, "You will find another one over there."

Monastario looked at him a moment, and then he threw the broken sword away and grabbed the new one. Under pretext of flexing it to test its strength, he lashed out and cut Diego's right arm just below the shoulder. It was not serious enough to cause him a problem, but he could see Monastario's delight in having drawn first blood. They renewed the fight.

Exertion began to take its toll on both men now. Their breaths were gasping and ragged and both began to suffer cuts as their reflexes slowed. Most of the cuts were superficial in the beginning, but they soon began to be more serious and blood became visible on their clothing. Sometime during the fight, Diego had been pierced in his right leg, just at the hip. It was impeding his ability to move quickly on his feet. Monastario had been pierced in his left shoulder and he had taken a nasty slice along his ribs in addition to his other wounds. Loss of blood for both men would soon become a factor.

Words like "eternity" began to color Diego's thoughts. That is what it seemed like since he had first followed Monastario into the cell tonight. Every time he thought that he had Monastario where he wanted him for the final thrust, either Monastario would make a superhuman effort and deflect the blow, or Diego's own body would betray him as his wounds accumulated.

Monastario too was contemplating eternity. It seemed like an eternity since he had first laid eyes on Diego de la Vega and Zorro. And here he was, locked in this cell with an implacable foe, who simply would not die, and with no way of escape. But he would not give up. He hated this man with every fiber of his being and he intended to kill him.

Again and again they clashed, many times grappling with each other when they could no longer hold up their sword arms. Diego now had a wound in his side that threatened to keep him from being able to draw a breath without doubling over. He was just able to keep Monastario at bay.

Monastario, for his part, was bleeding heavily from a deep cut on his right leg in addition to a serious slash down the outside of his left forearm, and so his own weakness kept him from being able to capitalize on the situation. Both men were covered with blood and not just their own.

Finally, both of them stumbled and fell to their hands and knees just out of sword range, exhausted. They were trying to regain enough strength to continue. For several minutes, only the harsh sound of heavy breathing could be heard. Diego, through sheer strength of will, lifted his head and squinted through his right eye at Monastario. His left one had blood in it and was useless.

Monastario, in his hatred, managed to look back at him through waves of dizzying blackness. There was a finality in the looks they exchanged. Almost in unison, they staggered to their feet. Running forward to meet each other, Diego reached out with his gloved left hand and caught Monastario's blade.

Through the blinding pain as the blade sliced through the glove, he thrust his sword home in Monastario's chest. Both men fell together.

Diego lay beside Monastario, hardly able to see or feel anything but waves of nausea and pain. He raised himself enough on a shaky elbow to look into Monastario's face. He saw that the man's eyes were looking out into the distance, unfocused, but his lips were moving. Leaning closer, Diego was able to hear Monastario's last words as his life ebbed away. He was repeating the name, "Zorro." Then with one last breath, Monastario was still.

Diego rolled over on his back and let his sword slip out of his hand. His left hand was throbbing mercilessly. He knew that he needed to find something to bind the more serious of his wounds, but he simply could not move. He heard the clock on the church strike midnight. Diego now knew how long eternity was: one hour had passed. He slipped into unconsciousness.


	22. Chapter Twenty-Two

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

* * *

 **Chapter** **Twenty Two**

Padre Ramon looked up from his prayers as he heard the church bells strike midnight. As he stood, in his mind's eye he could see a scene that was scarcely an hour old. He had gone down to the cell as Diego had requested and locked the door. But before he left, he had taken one look into the cell. He saw Zorro and Monastario facing each other in the gloom of the torchlight. He watched as Zorro drew his sword and removed his cape. He heard as Zorro said, "There is now no escape for either of us." And he watched as Zorro saluted Monastario with his sword. Padre Ramon had torn himself away and run out of the house and into the street. He knew he would never forget what he had seen as long as he lived.

After that, the padre had walked down the street for a few blocks and had come to a grove of trees where everything was dark and quiet. He knelt to pray. He stayed there the whole hour even though he was tempted time and again to go back to the house. But he would honor Diego's request and stay away. But now, as the church bells chimed, he hurried to Monastario's house and went quickly to the cell window.

Looking in, he was horrified to see two forms lying next to each other as still as death. He could not tell from where he was if either of the two men were alive. He made his decision quickly and ran around to the back of the house carrying his bundle of bandages with him. Soon he had the cell door open and he knelt next to Diego whose face was covered in blood. He placed his hand on Diego's chest to see if he could feel a heartbeat and almost wept as he felt the heart beating, even though it was weak. As he pulled his hand away, he found it was sticky with blood. He turned to Monastario, who was also covered in blood, but he could tell it was over for him. He turned back to Diego and spread out his bundle and began to work.

The next thing Diego knew was when he roused up later to find Padre Ramon binding his wounds. His black shirt had been removed and the legs of his trousers had been slit so that the padre could get to the worst of them. He could see that he had been pulled away from Monastario's body as far as he could be in this cell. He just lay there looking at it. How small Monastario seemed now that he was dead. Then Diego remembered his promise and in a weak voice began to pray for the soul of the man he could have been.

Padre Ramon heard Diego's prayer and found himself filled with love for this young man with the heart of a lion and the soul of a saint.

Diego fainted again when the padre had to lift him up to pass the bandage around his chest. The wound in his side was the most serious, although all of his wounds were horrible. In this fight, Monastario had not been toying with Diego as he had been when he had imprisoned him here. Every stroke was intended to kill and the cuts were deep. The padre had to cut the glove off of Diego's left hand. He did not know how it had gotten injured, but he did not think any permanent damage had been done. It would be a long time before Diego could use it, however. The padre had brought a lot of bandages with him, but he began to fear he had not brought enough. Diego had almost as many holes in him as he had when he first saw him weeks ago. He gently and carefully wiped the blood from Diego's face and saw that the cut that had bled so heavily was at the scalp line. He was thankful.

There were some other small cuts on Diego's face, but none that would leave a scar. This cut would heal and leave the scar hidden underneath Diego's thick hair. Finally, he had done all he could for Diego until he could carry him to the safe house.

Leaving Diego, he went over to Monastario's body. Straightening his limbs and wiping what blood he could from his face, the padre looked down at Diego's adversary.

He spoke. "My young friend over there did not deserve the life you thrust upon him. He had to set aside his own dreams to keep you and others like you from achieving your own malevolent ambitions. The life he should have led will be forever denied to him. Now Zorro goes with him wherever he goes. And when he sees an injustice done, he will always feel compelled to try and set it right. How can he ever hope to marry and have children? They would be in constant danger as he is. So maybe you have also denied him a wife and family. But Diego showed me that he can mourn for you, for he has prayed for your soul. Can I do no less?"

So saying, the padre knelt and prayed over the body of Monastario. Then as he stood, he saw Zorro's cape lying in the corner. He took it and covered the body. Quickly, he picked up the rest of Zorro's costume. When he picked up the sword he looked at it thoughtfully. Then with deliberate strokes he marked a "Z" on the wall above Monastario's body where it would be seen clearly. Then he began the business of getting Diego back up the stairs and out into the cart he had borrowed. He picked the unconscious Diego up in his arms and carried him up the stairs and out of the house. Then he had to come back and get the rest of the things. As he left, he looked over the cell one last time, seeing the black shrouded figure near the wall with the "Z" illuminated by the torch light. He gave brief thought on his way out to the guards, but not for long. He knew that Zorro had only knocked them out and tied them up. The morning guard change would find and release them. Besides, he needed to get Diego home as soon as possible.

It was a miracle that no one stopped him before he got Diego into the house. Tending to all the wounds again with fresh bandages took several hours. He managed to get Diego to come to long enough to get him to drink some wine laced with the medicine to keep down the fever, but he lapsed back into unconsciousness immediately. The sky was becoming grey with the dawn when Padre Ramon felt that he had done all that he could and he collapsed on his own bed next to Diego's and fell into an exhausted sleep.

In the morning, Escobar returned to find Monastario's household in an uproar. He asked what had happened and was told that all of the guards had been found tied up throughout the house by the morning guard change. The door to the cell below had been found open and two guards were found tied up nearby. Then Escobar heard the most chilling news of all. Monastario had been killed in what must have been a terrible sword fight. Escobar felt his heart racing.

"Zorro is dead," he thought, "but this seems just like the sort of thing he would do. The guards were not responsible for the torture of de la Vega, so they were merely gotten out of the way. And who else could take out a whole set of guards in the night like that unless it was Zorro? Then to find Monastario dead after a sword fight? It could only be Zorro! But wait, he would examine the scene himself and see.

He made his way down the stairs into the cell. Several torches had been set up to illuminate the cell. He had not been down here since before de la Vega's escape. What he saw amazed him. There was blood splattered everywhere and most of it was fresh. He saw the guards covering Monastario's body with a black silk cape. Fear gripped Escobar again. Zorro always wore such a cape! The guard was pointing to the wall and speculating about the meaning of the letter scratched there. But Escobar knew. It was the mark of Zorro! He was still alive and had come here to exact his terrible vengeance upon Monastario!

Escobar's heart failed him at that moment and he fell dead just a few feet from Monastario never knowing how wrong he had been.

Zorro had not taken revenge upon Monastario, Diego de la Vega had only brought him to justice.


	23. Epilogue

**NOTE BY THE ACCOUNT HOLDER: THIS STORY IS NOT MINE!**

 **WRITTEN BY KARLA GREGORY**

 **Account Holder Note:** And here it is, the Epilogue! To tell you the truth I've Always been a little bit in love with this story and I hope you had as much fun reading it as I did!

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 **Epilogue**

Two weeks had passed since "that night". Only two days ago, Padre Ramon had consented to let Diego get out of bed and begin to walk around. He found himself walking listlessly around the little house and out into the walled yard. He tired very easily. Most of the more shallow of his wounds were nearly healed, but those that had pierced deeply were proving to be most bothersome. This time his convalescence weighed more heavily upon him because he had nothing to focus on. Monastario was gone and there was no need for Zorro. He had written down all of the details of the plot to steal the military goods and sent it to the authorities anonymously and apparently the information triggered the arrests of several men and the recovery of other stolen goods. This had raised Diego's spirits for a time, but he soon returned to his listlessness.

Going back into the house, he sat on the edge of the bed and lay back staring at the ceiling. Finally, he covered his eyes with his arm and fell asleep. After a time, he dreamed he was back in California. He could hear his father saying, "Diego! Are you going to stay in bed all day? Half the morning is gone and still you do not get up!" He smiled as he lay there. It was so real! If only he could be home and hear his father say that again. Suddenly, he was shaken by the shoulder and when he took his arm away from his eyes he saw his father standing there.

"Diego, did you not hear me?" he said with false gruffness, grinning all the while. "Will you not get up and greet your own father?" He held his arms open wide.

Diego could only sit up staring with his mouth open. Padre Ramon stepped into view and said with a laugh, "Diego, if you don't close your mouth, the flies will get in! (He closed it.) Get up and greet your father as you should."

Pain and lethargy forgotten, Diego fairly leaped off the bed and into his father's arms. They hugged each other tightly as they laughed together, cried, and laughed some more.

Finally, Diego held his father at arm's length and looked at him with concerned eyes.

"Father, what of Bernardo? Is he alive? I have been so afraid he was killed that day."

Don Alejandro was grinning from ear to ear because he could see Bernardo's expressive eyes peering over Diego's shoulder. Diego looked around to see what his father was grinning at and found Bernardo. He was subjected to the same treatment as Don Alejandro.

Bernardo was so happy to see his friend, but what a toll the last months had taken on him! But he, Bernardo, was here now and Diego would be well taken care of. He would see to that! Still holding on to Bernardo, Diego encircled Don Alejandro's waist with his other arm and pulled both of them close to him as though he would never let go. He buried his head on his father's shoulder.

Padre Ramon stood aside watching. He had not seen Diego happy until today. His heart swelled with emotion as he watched these three people who truly had affection for each other. After all that Diego had gone through, he was pleased to know that he would be going to a home filled with love.

Diego suddenly felt his weakness return and was forced to sit on the bed. Bernardo was there instantly to make Diego lie back on the bed, fluffing his pillows, inquiring if he could get anything for him to eat or drink.

Diego held up his hands to ward him off and said smiling, "Stop fussing over me, my friend. You and father pull up some chairs and sit down so we can talk together." He gestured to the padre. "You too, Padre. Bring a chair and join us."

When they were all seated, Diego said, "The first thing you must tell me father, is how in the world you found me!"

So Don Alejandro told of the search for Diego and how they had found only Bernardo at the sight of the kidnappings. Bernardo was able to tell Don Alejandro that Diego was being sent to Spain and that Monastario was at the heart of it after overhearing the bandidos talking. They had proceeded to Santa Barbara and had found Diego's horse tied up to the wharf. From the fisherman there, they had confirmed that a young man answering Diego's description had been placed aboard a ship sailing for Spain that very night.

"Imagine my frustration, my son, when I found out that there would not be another ship for Spain for six weeks! It was intolerable!" he slapped his knee in anger and Diego smothered a laugh. He was enjoying watching his father act… well… like his father.

Bernardo indicated that he too was frustrated by the delay. "I could not tell Sergeant Garcia all of the details about why you were taken. I convinced him that you had been kidnapped for ransom and that the kidnapers had panicked and put you on that ship heading for Spain just to escape capture. I told him I only knew two things. One, you had been taken to Spain and two, I was going after you."

Bernardo signaled.

"Yes, Bernardo would not be left behind."

"But Father, you could not possibly know where in Spain I would be taken," Diego said. "Spain is a big country."

"I knew enough to know that wherever Monastario was that is where I would find you. When we arrived here, I began asking questions about Monastario and found out that he was in Madrid. Bernardo and I hastened to Madrid as fast as we could. But, by the time we arrived, we found out that Monastario was dead. We were told that he had been killed in his house and that a mysterious "Z" had been carved on the wall next to him."

Diego shot a questioning look at Padre Ramon, who nodded and made the sign of a "Z" with his finger. Diego nodded in satisfaction. This exchange was not lost on Don Alejandro or Bernardo.

Don Alejandro continued. "I did not know where to turn next, but our faithful Bernardo did," he said patting the servant on the back. Bernardo beamed. "He told me we should go to the university and visit the church there to pray. While we were there, Bernardo recognized the good Padre, and Padre Ramon, as soon as he saw Bernardo, knew why we were here. He brought us straight here to you, my son. We have heard nothing of your story except that you were hurt fighting Monastario and that he was finally brought to justice. The padre says it is not his story to tell."

Diego reached out and placed his hand on Padre Ramon's arm and squeezed it in affection. "He is right, Father," he said. "And I will tell the whole thing to you when we are on a ship heading back home to California, if you don't mind. For now, I will just say that Zorro and I had to come to an understanding about who we really are." Don Alejandro and Bernardo exchanged questioning glances.

Diego smiled, "Father, the next time you see Zorro, look into his eyes. You will see me, Diego de la Vega, looking back at you.

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 _Fini_


End file.
